


between synapses and circuits

by MistakenMagic



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Android!Bilbo, Light Angst, M/M, Mechatronic!Thorin, More sci-fi shenanigans, Mutual Pining, Sexy Sexy Horticulture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-05-16 23:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14821170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistakenMagic/pseuds/MistakenMagic
Summary: Different diagnostic results slowly trickled through and Thorin swiped them all to different corners of the screen depending on their relevance and evidence of abnormality. He paused when a particular chart appeared and smiled to himself.“What?” Bilbo murmured, sounding genuinely worried.“Your heterochromia,” Thorin explained, meeting Bilbo’s green and blue gaze. “The irregular algorithm that causes it has been running for almost half a century.”“Most mechatronics offer to fix it for me,” Bilbo said, looking away, seeming suddenly self-conscious.“Then they’re idiots.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipsicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipsicle/gifts).



> A/N: Hello, hello! I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from writing for too long and I’m now very happy to present my belated birthday gift for the absolutely wonderful Shipsicle. Having written about Jedi and merfolk, I figured an Android!AU was of course the next logical step and I was inspired by a gorgeous piece of Ship’s art which will be appearing in Chapter Two of this story. If you can’t wait until then, you can find it by clicking on the link below and please do pop over to Ship’s tumblr to show them lots of love! 
> 
> Now, if you’d be so kind as to travel with me to somewhere in England, in the not too distant future, as Thorin Oakenshield is about to make a rather important house call…

[[Link to Shipsicle's Awesome Art]](https://shipsicle.tumblr.com/post/162664753122/hella-late-but-heres-the-robotbilbo-au)

 

Thorin Oakenshield, Senior Mechatronic at A.C.O.R.N., had already lost his way twice by the time he finally turned his van onto Bagshot Row. He was left rather unsurprised that the one day he allowed his sister to borrow his M.app was also the day he was sent on an emergency call to a client who lived beyond the sprawling (and easily navigable) metropolis.

If he wasn’t so caught up in panicking about his response time – not for the sake of his own performance management statistics like other mechatronics, but for the sake of the poor android who had been reassured that help was on the way – Thorin would have taken a few moments to appreciate the change of scenery that was blossoming around him as the roads narrowed and curved, the gravel beneath the van’s tyres daring to be anything but smooth. Had he had his M.app satellite navigation system with him, he was sure he wouldn’t have minded at all that these rural roads refused to follow a grid pattern and wandered where they wanted to through the green and grassy slopes of the sunlit countryside.

Most of Thorin’s clients lived in the city centre or in the surrounding towns, preferring to be close to resources and specialised amenities. Much of his time was spent travelling, even if it wasn’t particularly far between calls, and this solitary existence suited him just fine. Having worked for the Android Computing Organisation and Repair Network for a good decade, he was more than entitled to a nice desk job at their Head Office, but Thorin enjoyed the practical aspect of his job, of feeling like he was helping others and making himself useful. He would much rather spend his time with faulty circuits than with spreadsheets.

Thorin slowed his van so that he could make out the digits on the electronic screens beside each quaint little house nestled into the hillside. It appeared this area was part of the eco-friendly housing scheme set up by the Department of Energy about forty years ago. Glancing across at his tablet to check the house number, Thorin furrowed his brow when he realised that he was, in fact, looking for a name and not a number.

The sudden knock on the van’s tinted front window made Thorin’s heart shoot up into his throat, but he still managed to put his foot on the pedal and wind down the window without looking too put out. He was greeted by an amicable-looking middle-aged woman and her children, who waved and smiled, easing the frown from Thorin’s expression.

“Are you looking for Mr. Baggins?” the woman asked kindly.

“Er, yes,” Thorin replied, checking the name on the caller report. “Can you tell me where to find ‘Bag End’?”

“You’re almost there – just follow the road up to that hill, the one with the oak tree,” the woman said, pointing in the tree’s direction. “You can’t miss it.”

Thorin was sure he was certainly capable of missing it, but chose not to voice this fact and instead answered with a small smile and “Thank you for your help.”

As he set off towards Bag End and the oak tree, Thorin wondered about the woman knowing exactly why he was there, but then he supposed the A.C.O.R.N. logo on the side of the van – and on the sleeve of his blue jacket - had given it away. If Mr. Baggins was the only android living in the rural village, locals would be used to seeing a mechatronic like Thorin show up from time to time.

Reaching the top of the hill, Thorin pulled the van in beside the small wooden gate – which was unusual in itself, but even more unusually, there was no electronic screen, but a simple painted plaque which identified the residence as ‘Bag End’. The house, like the others on Bagshot Row, was set right into the hillside with a circular green door. What made Bag End stand apart, however, was the vibrant array of flowers bursting from both rectangular beds of soil and an assortment of plant pots. Thorin could just make out the glass dome of a green house at the back of the property. He wasn’t sure of the last time he has seen so much flora, and although he could barely name any of the flowers, he decided that the ones with hundreds of tiny orange petals clustered together by the door were his favourite.

Thorin shouldered his kit bag and lifted his tablet from its charge point. Owing to the lack of any discernible call button or bell on the front gate, he slowly pushed the gate open and stepped onto the garden path. The sight that greeted him made Thorin stop, chest tightening and stomach twisting uncomfortably. A small, square paving stone had been dislodged from one step and there was dark blue oil splattered across the cracks. A collection of gardening tools – trowels, shears, scissors – lay forgotten in the grass beside the path.

Inhaling through his nose, Thorin stepped over the broken stone and approached the green door. There was a silver keypad this time, although Thorin noted that even this piece of technology was surrounded by small, dark green vines creeping up the house’s walls. He pressed the call button and waited, fingers flexing around the strap of his bag. After a few moments of silence, Thorin’s blue eyes flickered to his tablet. The client had given them the emergency door override code in case the damage meant they were unable to answer when a mechatronic showed up.

Thorin was about to press the call button again when suddenly there was a mechanical hiss and the door rolled open, revealing the android standing behind it.

“Hello!” Mr. Baggins said cheerily, and Thorin tried very hard not to stare.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but he certainly hadn’t been expecting Mr. Baggins. The android was shorter than most, wearing a cream shirt and mustard-coloured cardigan that complemented his golden hair. Thorin had never seen synthetic hair curl like that and he had to resist the very inappropriate urge to reach out and inspect it. What was even more fascinating was the fact that the android’s eyes were a mix of green and blue. He’d never seen a heterochromia defect present in both irises before – the glitch usually made the eyes appear as different colours altogether. Thorin wondered if the anomaly was the result of Mr. Baggins’ recent injury or something more long-term.

“You must be my mechatronic,” Mr. Baggins smiled, when Thorin continued to stand silently on his doorstep like an idiot.

“Y-yes,” Thorin stuttered, mentally scolding himself for his unprofessionalism. “My name is Thorin Oakenshield, Staff ID: 2746.” He quickly tapped his tablet and pulled up his A.C.O.R.N. identification, unsure as to why he was suddenly bothered by the fact that his ID photo made him look like the kind of serial killer you found on a ‘Top Ten’ infoclip.

However, Mr. Baggins barely glanced at the tablet, preferring to look right at Thorin in a way that managed to be both pleasant and unnerving. “Please do come in, Mr. Oakenshield… Thank you so much for venturing out here. I imagine it’s quite far out of your way.”

Thorin followed Mr. Baggins into his home, the green door automatically rolling shut behind them. It was only then that he noticed the trail of oil splashes dotted on the floor from one room to the next. Another look confirmed that the android was holding his right arm to his chest, having wrapped it tightly in a tea towel. Blue liquid was slowly soaking through the fabric by his wrist.

“Please, call me Thorin,” Thorin said, swallowing to relieve the dryness in his throat. “I, er, I apologise for my delayed arrival… I got lost – erm, twice actually – but if you’d like to make a complaint, I can transfer the appropriate forms… You just need to cite my Staff ID number and –”

“Oh goodness, no!” Mr. Baggins spoke over him, waving a hand to completely dismiss the idea. “You mechatronics work hard enough without having to deal with nasty, disturbing things like that… And I take full responsibility for your getting lost, having decided to live in the back of beyond.”

Mr. Baggins smiled again and it accentuated the lines on his face where the pale plates of synthetic skin fit together, like a puzzle – one which Thorin couldn’t quite figure out.

“Now, where would be best for you to make the repairs?” Mr. Baggins prompted, when Thorin once more found himself simply standing there, being as much use as a broken desk lamp.

“Oh, er, if you have a table we could work on…?”

“Kitchen table it is then,” Mr. Baggins replied. “Now, this place is a bit of a rabbit warren, so you best stick close to me if you don’t want to get lost again.”

The android laughed at his own joke and it did something funny to Thorin’s stomach. Nevertheless, he forced himself to follow Mr. Baggins down the corridor. It was only when his eyes dropped to the small spots of oil on the floor – indicating that the android had already come this way whilst injured – that he noticed Mr. Baggins was actually walking around barefoot. Very odd for an android. But then, Thorin had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Baggins was going to prove rather different to his other clients.

Such suspicions only seemed to be confirmed as they passed room after room that was filled from floor to ceiling with books – not even sleek tablet-tomes, but real, printed books, most appearing to be bound by faded leather in every colour you could imagine. Most humans didn’t buy paper books anymore, let alone androids who could download all the information they wanted straight to their hard-drives without even having to read it.

“I hope this table is to your liking?” Mr. Baggins grinned, indicating the kitchen table.

They were now at the back of the house and Thorin could see more than one glass-domed green house through the circular windows which were letting all the sunlight tumble in, making Mr. Baggins’ curly hair glitter.

“Yes,” Thorin nodded, shifting the kit bag on his shoulder, wondering if it was warmer on this side of the house. “This table is fine.”

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Mr. Baggins offered, moving towards the cupboards, still holding his damaged arm to his chest. “I have Yorshire Platinum… Earl Grey…”

Thorin’s eyes widened. His clients didn’t usually have food or beverages in their homes, and they certainly didn’t start trying to serve their mechatronics drinks when they were leaking oil all over the floor.

“Or I have some loose mint tea – I make it with the mint from my garden… Or – ”

“Mr. Baggins, I think I ought to see to you first,” Thorin said quietly. “That, er, looks like it might be quite a vicious scrape on your arm there.”

Mr. Baggins glanced down at his damaged arm, as if he’d quite forgotten about it. “Oh, yes, I suppose… Although you have had such a long drive…”

“I’m fine,” Thorin assured him, pulling out a chair at the table. “Please will you sit?”

Mr. Baggins lingered by the cupboards for a moment, before relenting and sinking down into the chair. Thorin opened his bag and spread out a thick, oil-resistant mat over the table. He set up his tablet and collected a few essential tools from different pockets.

“I’m sorry the house is such a mess, so much oil everywhere,” Mr. Baggins said, looking up at Thorin with a hint of nervousness in his expression. “It… It was silly really, I thought I could fix this myself… I should have just contacted you straight away.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Thorin said kindly, taking a seat at the table opposite him. “Some clients wait a lot longer before seeking our help. I’ve become quite used to being a last resort.”

“I can imagine a lot of your clients are kicking themselves when they find out what their last resort looks like,” Mr. Baggins commented, and Thorin froze.

Had he misheard? Or misunderstood what the android was really trying to say? And why on earth was his stomach still wriggling around inside him like a spanner in a tumble dryer?

“I… I am so sorry!” Mr. Baggins gasped. “Please accept my apologies, that was horribly inappropriate of me.”

“Not at all, Mr. Baggins,” Thorin said, trying to put him at ease and ignore the colour creeping into his cheeks. “I assure you I take my compliments where I can find them.”

Mr. Baggins looked a little less mortified. “Bilbo,” he said softly. “Please, call me Bilbo.”

The tumble dryer increased its spin cycle. “If you could remove the towel and put both arms out flat on the table, Bilbo.”

Mr. Baggins – Bilbo – carefully peeled off the oil-soaked tea towel and laid his arms out as instructed. There was a nasty-looking gash on his right forearm. Something had cut right through the synthetic casing and down into the wires and circuits below.

“I’m just going to hook you up to our system to run a full diagnostic, is that alright?” Thorin asked, connecting a thin cable to his tablet.

“Yes… Yes, of course, go ahead.”         

Thorin reached out to Bilbo’s left hand and slowly turned it over to reveal the access-port on his wrist. His artificial skin was cooler than a human’s, but still slightly warm with the crackling flow of electricity. Their fingers brushed together, almost intertwining, as Thorin adjusted the position of Bilbo’s hand. His touch lingered longer than it probably should have, but Bilbo’s fingertips still twitched against his, as if they were reluctant to let go.

Thorin lifted his eyes to find the android watching him with an indecipherable expression and coughed to clear his throat. “Right…” He plugged the other end of the cable into the port on Bilbo’s wrist and his tablet instantly whirred into life, various graphs and tables and figures popping up on the split screens. The information confirmed what Thorin had already guessed, that Mr. Bilbo Baggins was a HOBBITv.2890: a rare model, not seen around much these days. If the stats were correct, Bilbo was around fifty years old. It had been a while since Thorin, at forty-two, had worked with a client who was older than he was.

Different diagnostic results slowly trickled through and Thorin swiped them all to different corners of the screen depending on their relevance and evidence of abnormality. He paused when a particular chart appeared and smiled to himself.

“What?” Bilbo murmured, sounding genuinely worried.

“Your heterochromia,” Thorin explained, meeting Bilbo’s green and blue gaze. “The irregular algorithm that causes it has been running for almost half a century.”

“Most mechatronics offer to fix it for me,” Bilbo said, looking away, seeming suddenly self-conscious.

“Then they’re idiots.”

Bilbo’s eyes snapped back to Thorin and he appeared surprised. “You really think so?”

“Of course,” Thorin answered honestly. “Just because something is caused by flawed code doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful.”

And now Bilbo was grinning. “…You think my eyes are beautiful?”

Thorin could feel his cheeks going very red and he coughed again. “I… Well, they… they are, er, certainly unique.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The android was clearly enjoying himself now and Thorin quickly looked back at his tablet, taking a long time to study the screen.

“It appears all the damage is limited to the circuits in your right forearm,” Thorin explained, still not quite ready to make eye-contact just yet. “Would you mind telling me the cause of your injury?”

“Hamfast Gamgee,” Bilbo replied wryly. “And you make sure you put his name in your report.”

Thorin’s heart gave a painful jolt and his jaw went tight. “Bilbo…” he said, tone serious. “Are you telling me that you were assaulted?”

“Oh heavens, no!” Bilbo said, seeming to regret his last words. “I only meant that Hamfast promised me he was going to sort out all the loose paving stones on my front path, but he hasn’t got round to it yet… So this morning, when I was carrying all my tools out to the flower beds, a stone came loose, I tripped, and a pair of garden shears went right through my casing.”

Thorin slowly exhaled, relief washing through him. “Okay, so I’m going to list the cause as accidental.”

“But do make sure you get Hamfast’s name in there,” Bilbo said pleasantly. “Hopefully that’ll make him think about fixing my path sooner.”

Thorin was about to offer to cement the paving stones himself, but stopped himself just in time. That would certainly be inappropriate. Definitely unprofessional. He shouldn’t spend one more second thinking about it.

“I just want to check the sensory receptors in your hand,” Thorin said, moving the conversation along. “See how far the damage has spread… Okay?”

“Okay,” Bilbo smiled.

Trying not to dwell on the fact that he was going to be holding Bilbo’s hand again, Thorin schooled his expression into one of concentration as he gently lifted the android’s right hand from the mat. Their palms slid against each other – Bilbo’s being much smoother and softer than Thorin’s – as he checked for any other tears or faults. He pressed at the pale casing over Bilbo’s fingers, feeling the metal bones beneath, then touched their fingertips together. Being an older model, Bilbo didn’t have translucent, artificial nails, but he did still have unique prints lasered onto the pads of each finger. Thorin was sure he could even feel the swirled grooves as he pushed their fingertips together.

“Can you feel that?” he asked, voice low.

“Yes,” Bilbo replied, voice equally hushed.

“In all five fingers?”

“…Yes.”

“And can you move your fingers for me?”

Bilbo stroked his fingers over Thorin’s palm and he had to fight to ignore the tingle it sent up his arm. The movements were a little clumsy, but still steady.

“You, er, you can stop moving them now,” Thorin said, reluctantly drawing his hand away and instantly feeling the loss of Bilbo’s skin against his own. “Your receptors are all looking good, and you should regain fully co-ordinated movements once I replace the damaged circuitry in your arm.”

Bilbo nodded. “Thank you, Thorin.”

Turning to his kit bag, Thorin collected a slim torch and drew his chair closer to the table. “Just need to see what I’m working with… See how much damage those pesky shears have done…”

He leaned over Bilbo’s arm and slowly pulled the torn casing a little wider so that he could shine his torch inside. Most of the oil had leaked from this section, but Bilbo’s arm had shut off the compartment when the injury occurred. His body would replace the dark blue liquid and flood it back into his forearm once the repairs were made. Mechatronics and androids alike referred to the fluid as ‘oil’, even though they knew it wasn’t really the black fuel of old – more like an artificial equivalent of blood to protect circuity and increase the speed of the electricity flowing through an android’s body. Thorin used the torch to scan the mangled twist of wires. The garden shears had avoided scraping the robust, silver bone, but he would still need to replace and reconnect some of the wiring.

Thorin straightened up. “The bone looks fine, but I’ll need to have a tinker with –”

He stopped as soon as he saw the flash of discomfort in Bilbo’s expression and the revelation almost winded him. His clients were usually quite vocal about their desire for pain relief and he’d been so distracted, it hadn’t even occurred to him that Bilbo might simply be putting on a brave face.

“Bilbo…” he said softly. “Would you like me to give you something for the pain?”

“Oh…” Bilbo obviously didn’t expect to be caught out. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

Thorin stood up to root through his kit bag. “It’s no trouble. I’m sorry I never asked, that… that was very thoughtless of me.”

“I’m still not going to put in a complaint,” Bilbo replied, before wincing. “It’s the price we androids pay, I suppose… We get all the good feelings, so we have to get the bad ones as well.”

“But I can help take the edge off the bad ones,” Thorin said, smiling a little sadly as he retrieved a small, rectangular cannister from the inside pocket of his bag.

“You can,” Bilbo agreed, almost sounding sly. He turned his wrist that held the diagnostics cable towards Thorin.

“Oh… This, er, this should be plugged into your charging port…”

“Ah, of course.”

“It blocks the pain receptors quicker if we use the charging port… But if you’d rather I –”

“No, no, no that’s absolutely fine… I, um, might just need a little help with…”

An android’s main charging port was located on the top of their right shoulder, just above the blade. Thorin moved around the table to stand behind Bilbo’s chair. Bilbo had already unbuttoned his cardigan with his good hand and was now unfastening the top of his shirt. Thorin looked across the kitchen, trying to act nonchalant, glad Bilbo couldn’t see the flush in his cheeks.

“If you could help me pull my shirt down…?” Bilbo asked, glancing back with a bashful smile.

“Of course, sorry…”

Having a few stern words with himself, Thorin reached out and carefully pulled Bilbo’s cardigan and shirt away from his shoulder, revealing the two-pronged charging port set into his pale skin. His fingers curled under the cotton fabric of Bilbo’s shirt, skimming over his shoulder.

“Are you happy for me to plug in the pain relief cannister?”

“Yes,” Bilbo breathed.

Thorin attached the cannister with great care then slowly pulled Bilbo’s shirt and cardigan back up around it. “We’ll leave it in for a little while, make sure it’s working.”

“I think it already is,” Bilbo said, closing his eyes and letting out a breath.

Taking a seat back at the table, Thorin decided not to kick himself too thoroughly over the fact that he could have easily walked out of there without offering any pain relief at all. “Again, I really am – ”

“If you apologise one more time, Thorin Oakenshield, I am going to put in a complaint,” Bilbo grinned, and it made Thorin feel better. “How dare one of your mechatronics be so polite and attentive, it simply won’t do.”

“ _Polite and attentive_?” Thorin smirked. “I might need that in writing to show my sister.”

Bilbo watched as Thorin set up all the tools needed for his repairs. “I find it hard to believe anyone thinks anything different of you.”

“Oh, trust me, they do,” Thorin said, pulling a sterilised wipe from a packet and gently cleaning the oil from Bilbo’s forearm.

“Then they’re idiots.”

Thorin chuckled, and Bilbo did too. It did something decidedly nicer to Thorin’s stomach.

“So I’ll just have to solder some of these wires, replace this one here, then I’ll seal up the casing – it shouldn’t leave any marks.”

“That’s a shame, I was rather looking forward to matching,” Bilbo said, nodding at Thorin’s own forearm.

Thorin shifted on his seat. There was a lumpy white scar running in a slight curve over his right wrist. He let out a cough and started warming up the soldering iron.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Bilbo said, voice tight. “I should have certainly learned to mind my own business by now.”

“It’s okay,” Thorin said quietly. “I, er, I’ve had the scar for over twenty years now… Got it at the protests, before the government brought out the legislation for inter-sentience marriage.”

Bilbo had gone very still and he was watching Thorin with shining eyes. “… You were there?”

“I was,” Thorin said, picking up the soldering iron. “My sister, Dis, and I… My mum and dad too… and Frerin, my brother… We figured everyone who’s capable of loving someone should be allowed to love who they want… Some twat with a crowbar didn’t agree.”

“Thank you.”

Thorin hadn’t quite expected to be thanked, but the look on Bilbo’s face now made his eyes sting. He could see that the android truly appreciated the fact that Thorin and his family had joined the fight for equal rights.

“…Were you there too?” he asked, soldering the first set of wires back together.

“Yes,” Bilbo replied. “It’s nice to think that our paths have crossed before today.”

Thorin hummed his agreement and Bilbo’s fingers twitched against his, but maybe that was just a reflex reaction as he reconnected the wires in his arm.

They fell into silence as Thorin went about his repairs, slowly rebuilding the section of circuitry and sparking it back to life. The quiet was broken by a few of Thorin’s questions, which Bilbo answered with a smile, until the compartment was returned to its former, pre-shears glory. The synthetic skin was fused back together with invisible cybernetic stitching, but Thorin wrapped Bilbo’s arm in a protective layer of temporary casing, just to be on the safe side.

“And if you could flex your fingers for me?” Thorin said, once again finding Bilbo’s palm resting against his, skin a little hotter with the renewed flow of electricity.

Bilbo fanned out his fingertips, brushing them against Thorin’s, then wiggled his fingers up and down.

“Excellent,” Thorin said, with approval. “Now, can you turn your hand over and make a fist?”

Bilbo didn’t necessarily need to keep his hand on Thorin’s – most clients would have moved onto the mat, but then most mechatronics would have pulled their hands away – but he did, Thorin’s palm cupping the back of his hand as he made a fist, then flexed, then made another fist.

“You’re just showing off now,” Thorin grinned, eyes scanning his diagnostics screen. “Everything’s looking good… I’m just going to disconnect you.”

He unplugged the diagnostics cable from Bilbo’s wrist and shut down his tablet, unsure when the weight in his stomach had appeared. His eyes moved to the pain relief cannister still attached to Bilbo’s shoulder.

“You can remove the cannister from your charging port now.”

Bilbo paused for a moment, appearing to be weighing something up in his mind… Thorin was about to offer his help when the android reached up and unplugged the cannister. Thorin told himself he wasn’t too disappointed as Bilbo handed it over, their fingers brushing together again.

“Right, well, it seems to have been a clean repair, but if you notice any malfunctions, any oil leaking under the skin, make sure you give us a call.” Thorin stood up and pushed his chair under, collecting the last few tools into his kit bag, wishing he knew what was causing the ache in his chest. “The repair will be charged to your credit account – is that alright?” He always hated mentioning payment, especially when humans had had free healthcare for well over a century. But he knew that was a conversation for another time.

“That’s fine and I will,” Bilbo said, rising from his own chair, the same inscrutable expression from before appearing on his face. “Are… are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay for some tea?”

Thorin’s stomach was full of spanners. “I… ” His eyes flitted to the digital clock on his tablet. “I would really like that… It’s just this is my last call of the day and I’m supposed to be meeting my sister and my nephews for dinner.” He hoped he sounded genuine, not like he was making up some half-baked excuse, and inwardly cursed Dis for deciding to have a family meal on this particular day.

“That’s quite alright,” Bilbo smiled, although his green-blue eyes looked a little dimmed. “Another time perhaps… If you’re in the area?”

“Of course,” Thorin said, the sinking feeling returning. “I, er, I hope Hamfast fixes your pathway.”

“If he doesn’t and I happen to trip again, I won’t feel quite so reluctant to give A.C.O.R.N. a call.”

Thorin laughed at that. He opened his mouth to answer… but then closed it again, not sure there was more to say, although he felt like there should be.

“Now, let me show you to the front door… Can’t have you getting lost again today.”

Shouldering his kit bag, Thorin followed Bilbo back down the winding corridor, past the rooms bursting with books, all the way to the circular, green door.

“Thank you for your help, Thorin,” he said, extending his newly-repaired hand. “It’s been lovely to meet you.”

“It’s… it’s been lovely to meet you too, Bilbo.” Thorin didn’t shake the hand, only held it, for longer than was strictly necessary.

The ‘good bye’ getting lodged in his throat, Thorin simply smiled as the green door rolled open and he stepped out onto the stone path. Bilbo was still standing in the doorway when Thorin got into his van, and he waved as the van pulled away. Thorin raised a hand and waved back, setting off back down the green coil of road, watching in the rear view mirror as Bilbo and his flowers and the oak tree grew smaller and smaller as he drove away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing response to the first chapter – I’ve been absolutely blown away by your support and it’s made me even more eager to get this second chapter to you. I hope you’re ready for another dollop of unresolved sexual tension and y’all know you can pry academic!Bilbo from my cold, dead hands…

Thorin would have kept on driving if it hadn’t been for the signpost. He’d reached a crossroads on the narrow country lane and suddenly his heart had started beating just a little bit faster. The slim, silver post held two polished metal plates… and there, engraved in angular lettering on the one pointing off to the right, were the words: _Bagshot Row 3 ½ miles_.

Checking his mirrors, Thorin slowly brought his van to a stop and sat tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He’d just finished up his last call of the day in one of the nearby towns and he hadn’t realised just how close he was to Bagshot Row, and therefore Bag End, and therefore a certain android who had developed a paradoxically pleasant and irritating habit of occupying his thoughts over the past week.

And it had been exactly a week since Thorin had made that fateful house call: one which had left him decidedly rattled. It was almost like he had been shaken awake after months, years even, of just going through the motions. It was a safe, familiar routine of van, road, kit, call, van, road, kit, call. It wasn’t that Thorin didn’t enjoy his job, and every call was different, it was just that this particular call to Bilbo Baggins of Bag End had been very different indeed.

Thorin’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel and his stomach scrunched a little like paper inside a fist when wisps of last night’s dream flitted before his waking eyes. He had been navigating the winding corridors of Bag End, alone except for the sound of his own booted footsteps against the wooden floors. The dream had stretched on and on as Thorin continued his search, rounding corner after corner, but finding nothing, no one. He felt he was trapped in a maze of mythical proportions, only he did very much want to find the minotaur.

Leaning back against the headrest, Thorin scratched at the long, dark bristles over his chin and eyed the signpost that was glittering in the late afternoon light like a beacon of temptation. He was sure Bilbo had asked him round for tea, so maybe showing up out of the blue wouldn’t be too inappropriate. But what if he was wrong about the invitation? A.C.O.R.N. offered free check-ups a week after emergency call-outs, although this was usually reserved for more serious injuries or malfunctions than isolated lacerations. He supposed Bilbo didn’t need to know that.

It was with a decidedly giddy feeling that Thorin brought the van’s engine back to life, put his foot on the pedal, and turned right at the crossroads.

Thorin spent the next three and a half miles rehearsing what he was going to say to Bilbo when the android’s green door rolled open. He was, therefore, not prepared for the eventuality of meeting Bilbo before he even got up the front path, which was exactly what happened. Thorin spotted Bilbo moving about in his garden, synthetic curls flashing fascinating shades of gold, as the van rumbled up the hill towards Bag End. His chest instantly tightened as he pulled in beside the little wooden gate.

Hopping out of the van, Thorin took a moment to compose himself before shouldering his kit bag and moving round into Bilbo’s sightline.

“Thorin!” The android was positively beaming, his eyes appearing more green than blue today. He took a step down the stone pathway, holding a small terracotta plant pot to his chest which contained a little green sprout poking through the dark soil.

“Good afternoon, Bilbo,” Thorin smiled, hesitating on the other side of the gate, making sure Bilbo knew he had the option of telling him to sod off if he was intruding.

 

[[Link to Art]](https://shipsicle.tumblr.com/post/174496079310/shipsicle-hella-late-but-heres-the-robotbilbo)

 

“How strange, I was just thinking about you,” Bilbo said, still looking delighted, still making Thorin’s stomach flip. “Have you come to take up my offer of tea?”

“Oh…” Thorin was thrown for a moment and everything he’d rehearsed came bubbling up anyway. “I, er, I’m here for your free check-up… Just to make sure everything’s running as it should be.”

A flicker of disappointment passed over Bilbo’s face, curving the lines around his eyes and mouth: his face was more expressive than any android Thorin had ever met and the lines between each plate of his artificial skin mapped out each emotion so beautifully. Which was why Thorin was now kicking himself for his lie which had clearly hurt Bilbo’s feelings.

“Of course, of course,” Bilbo replied, his smile seeming a little strained. “Please will you come in?”

“I… I’d also like to stay for tea, if that’s okay?” Thorin said, wanting to atone and bring an easier smile to Bilbo’s face.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Bilbo all-but grinned, instantly brightening.

Relieved, Thorin pushed open the gate and followed Bilbo up the stone steps. He noticed the darker coloured, smooth cement lining some freshly laid paving – it appeared Hamfast had kept his promise and fixed the cracked stone. Bilbo settled his plant pot down by the door next to the congregation of many-petaled flowers that were arranged in an ombre of sunset colours, from bright yellow and orange to blushing pink and red. Bilbo tapped in his entry-code and the green door rolled away to admit them. Thorin smiled to himself as the android wiped his bare feet on the welcome mat.

“Do you remember the way to the kitchen?” Bilbo asked, peering back over his shoulder.

Thorin shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to show me.”

Bilbo chuckled and lead Thorin through the labyrinth whilst he fought off the curious feeling that he had been here many times before. They arrived in the kitchen and Bilbo pulled out a chair for him at the table. It was only in this new light that Thorin realised there were actually two small, pale brown leaves nestled in the curls of Bilbo’s hair, giving him the otherworldly appearance of a strange woodland creature.

He must have been staring, because Bilbo prompted him with a gentle “Thorin?”.

“You, er, you have… leaves in your hair,” Thorin explained, gesturing a little awkwardly.

“Oh!” A faint blush appeared in Bilbo’s cheeks as he reached up. “Sorry, I’ve been sorting out the compost by the green houses.”

“No need to apologise,” Thorin said, trying not to notice the fondness in his own voice.

Bilbo successfully retrieved one crinkled leaf, but his fingers had pushed its companion further away. “I can’t seem to…” He patted at his hair in vain.

“Here…” Thorin stepped forward before he really had time to think about what he was doing, but still he lifted his hand to Bilbo’s curls, their fingers brushing as he plucked the offending leaf from its hiding place. He froze then, realising just how close they were standing to each other, but quite unwilling to move away. He held the leaf’s curled point between his fingers, glancing down at Bilbo with his lips slightly parted.

“Thank you,” the android whispered.

“It – it’s okay,” Thorin stammered, finally taking a step back and holding up the leaf. “Erm… Do you… need this?”

Bilbo laughed. “No, no, it can go in the bin…” He indicated the self-sorting recycling unit by the back door. “Unless you’d rather keep it?” he added, with a sly grin.

Thorin told himself he hadn’t just pictured putting the leaf in his jacket pocket as he dropped it into Bilbo’s outstretched hand. He watched Bilbo as he went over to the bin, which sensed his hand and opened its metal lid. The leaves were dropped into a tray and with a motorized rattle, the bin sorted them away to the appropriate waste disposal chute.

“Right, shall we see if I’ve done any lasting damage?” Bilbo asked cheerfully, as he came and took a seat at the kitchen table.

Thorin set his kit bag down and joined him. Bilbo had removed the temporary casing and as there wasn’t a mark left on his synthetic skin, Thorin decided the oil-resistant mat wouldn’t be necessary this time. He set up his tablet and collected the diagnostics cable.

“Have you had any problems since the accident? Sensory glitches? Loss of motor function?” he murmured, slipping back into mechatronic-mode and tapping a few things on the screen.

“No, nothing like that,” Bilbo answered. “I removed the casing yesterday and it appears you’ve done an excellent job at fixing me up.”

Thorin felt heat flood his face at the compliment. “I’m just going to run another full diagnostic, if that’s alright?”

“Oh yes, that’s fine.”

Having gone through this process before, with Bilbo having already placed his arms out on the table, Thorin thought the android would have offered his wrist so he could plug in the diagnostic cable… but he was keeping his hand flat, palm down on the table top. Clearing his throat with a cough, Thorin reached out and slowly turned Bilbo’s hand over for him, feeling his fingertips press against the inside of his wrist.

He plugged the cable into the access-port and a familiar set of graphs and tables began popping up on his tablet’s screen. “Everything’s looking great…” Thorin said, eyes scanning each neon string of code. “All systems functioning normally, sensory receptors at one hundred percent, and the new wiring has completely integrated itself with your programming.” Thorin had to resist the urge to mention the irregular algorithm that created Bilbo’s heterochromia which was still running.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” Bilbo said happily. “Now… tea?”

Thorin carefully unplugged the diagnostics cable, wondering at the anxiety in Bilbo’s voice, as if he was expecting him to bolt before taking him up on the offer. He packed up his tablet and put the cable away. “Tea,” he agreed.

“I have some camomile and lavender, if you’ve had a bit of a difficult day,” Bilbo said, going to the kitchen cupboards. “And I’ve just replenished my stock of matcha green… Oh, and there’s rhubarb and ginger if you’re feeling more adventurous, and – ”

“I’d quite like to try the mint tea,” Thorin cut in, wondering if Bilbo was going to list every single flavour of tea in existence. “You said you made it with the mint from your garden?”

“You remembered that?” Bilbo said quietly, his cheeks going a little pink. “Oh well, yes, of course – mint tea it is!”

The android collected a box of tea bags from the cupboard and, to Thorin’s surprise, a real china mug decorated with delicate blue flowers. China crockery was almost unheard of in human homes now, let alone the home of an android. It was worth a fortune, of course, being a relic of a past age – most china was either in a museum, moving around the antique circuit, or behind a glass case in the family dining room. Thorin hovered by the table as Bilbo filled the mug from the glass kettle-sphere by the sink that kept water permanently boiled. He dropped the tea bag into the mug, where it immediately diffused a cloud of dark green, floating like some deep sea creature amongst the kelp.

“Here we are!” Bilbo handed Thorin the mug, and Thorin reminded himself that if he dropped it, he very probably wouldn’t be able to afford the damages. “Shall we go and sit in the library?”

Having seen several rooms filled with books, Thorin wasn’t sure where the library was, but he nodded anyway. “I’d like that.”

Bilbo led him back down the corridor and Thorin followed, carrying his china mug with both hands, trying to focus on not spilling any tea, and not on the curls of Bilbo’s golden hair, or the gentle curve of his shoulders… or the curve of anything else for that matter. They arrived at a small, cosy room which had two walls filled from floor to ceiling with books of all shapes and sizes, spread in a kaleidoscope of colour. The circular window had a cushioned seat built into it and there were two leather armchairs sat facing each other across a small coffee table.

“Oh, let me just move that…” Bilbo collected a copy of Mary Shelley’s _Frankenstein_ from the table so that Thorin would be able to set his mug down on one of the circular coasters. He returned the novel to its correct place on the shelves.

They both lowered themselves into the armchairs and Thorin looked around the room with a warm smile. “I can’t remember the last time I saw so many books.”

Bilbo shifted in his chair. “Er, yes… I know it’s a little odd.”

“No, it’s nice,” Thorin reassured him, still taking in shelf after shelf of beautifully preserved volumes. “I like this room.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said softly, and Thorin noticed the flush hadn’t quite faded from his cheeks.

“So… you read a lot then? You don’t download?” Thorin asked, hoping the android wouldn’t be offended by his genuine curiosity.

“I download all the latest legislation and manuals – you know, life’s boring but necessary literature,” Bilbo replied. “But I enjoy reading the classics, and quite a bit on History and Science too… I suppose I like to see the words actually written down, to process them slowly, to actually feel the learning happening… See sentences transform into meaning, and even then not being sure of what meaning you might be looking for… Sorry, I know that’s all a bit, er, unusual… and not very interesting.”

“I think you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met,” Thorin blurted out, then stopped, immediately looking away as he sipped his tea. Smooth, Thorin, really smooth.

A moment passed and Thorin dared to meet Bilbo’s gaze. The android was watching him with a small smile and light in his eyes, which had now made a shift towards an enchanting blue. He stayed silent and Thorin wished he knew what he was thinking.

“I’m not sure I’d even know how to buy a book these days,” he commented, deciding to return to a safer subject.

“Oh, well I do a lot of internet shopping, and I know a few second-hand dealers who get in touch when they think they’ve got something I might like,” Bilbo explained. “But most of the books in here are from my time at university.”

Thorin put his mug back down on the coaster with a clatter. “University?”

Luckily, Bilbo only seemed amused by his shock. “Yes, I was the first android to be accepted at Durham.”

“Wow… that’s amazing,” Thorin said, and he meant it. “What did you study?”

“I wasn’t trying to be ironic when I applied for a BSc in Biology, but the media ran with that line anyway,” Bilbo said, with a quirk of his lips as his gaze grew a little distant. “I went on to do a Masters in Botany… I was very happy there.”

“But you didn’t want to lecture?” Thorin asked, thinking of York’s only android professor and his lecture series which had recently gone viral.

“No… I decided I’d had my fill of being the first,” Bilbo replied. “I was the first android to graduate with a Bachelors degree, then the first to complete a Masters… I suppose I was a little weary of being the first and I wanted a quieter life, away from the spotlight.”

Thorin nodded in understanding. “It must have been hard, trying to study with all that extra pressure.”

“It had its difficult moments, but I received a lot of support, lots of lovely emails and video messages… And now I’m quite settled here: I sell my flowers at the street markets, dabble in a bit of freelance gardening, and I tutor Mrs Boffin’s children on Tuesday evenings.”

Thorin knew he was right to call Bilbo the most interesting person he’d ever met and he was struggling to stop himself from feeling completely smitten. Bilbo had lived such an extraordinary life and he felt quite privileged to be sitting opposite him now.

“And what about you, Thorin?” Bilbo asked, leaning forward in his chair a little. “Have you always worked for A.C.O.R.N.?”

Thorin took another gulp of tea, the fresh mint leaving a tingling on his tongue. “No, I originally started with an apprenticeship at the Department of Transport, working as an engineer on the railways… I transferred to A.C.O.R.N. about ten years ago… I suppose I’ve always been good at fixing things – something my mum passed on to us.”

“Oh, is she an engineer as well?” Bilbo asked, and he sounded genuinely intrigued… Thorin wasn’t used to talking about himself, about his family, but something stirred in his chest at the thought that Bilbo really wanted to know.

“She was, yeah, a brilliant one,” Thorin replied, hoping Bilbo didn’t hear the waver as he switched to the past tense. Some things were what they were.

Bilbo paused, seeming to weigh up his next question, and Thorin guessed he hadn’t been successful in hiding the wobble in his voice. “And your sister? Is she with A.C.O.R.N. too?”

At first Thorin was confused by the android’s omniscience, but then he realised he’d mentioned Dis when declining Bilbo’s first offer of tea. “Oh, no, Dis is a physiotherapist – she works at Blue Mountains.”

Bilbo was beaming again. “She’s interdisciplinary then?”

Thorin nodded. Blue Mountains was one of the only rehabilitation centres in the North that catered for both human and android patients.

“And you said she has children? Are they old enough yet to join your family’s tradition of fixing things?”

Thorin had to quickly replay his conversation with Bilbo from the previous week to confirm that yes, he had mentioned Fili and Kili… once. He knew that, as a senior mechatronic, he really shouldn’t be surprised by android memory, but this recall felt different, deliberate somehow.

“Fili is seventeen and he’s going through the application process for Ironfoot Robotics… Kili is twelve, but I hear he’s doing a roaring trade fixing up everyone’s bikes at his school.”

Bilbo laughed at that, before his eyes dropped to his lap. “So… do you have any children?”

Thorin’s stomach jolted and his heart was suddenly thudding against his ribs. “No… just nephews.”

“You and your partner happy with it being just the two of you?”

Thorin felt heat crawling up his neck. Either Bilbo was innocently trying to piece the Oakenshield family tree together or he was rather shamelessly trying to discover if the mechatronic sitting opposite him was single… Why was Thorin so desperate for it to be the latter?

“N-no partner either,” Thorin stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just me… It has been for quite a while really.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Bilbo said quietly.

“And… er, and you?” Thorin asked, trying not to think about throwing himself out the circular window if it turned out Bilbo’s partner was simply out at work or lived elsewhere and all of this had been in his head.

“Just me,” Bilbo replied. “It has been for quite a while really.”

They shared a smile, then both looked away. Thorin reached for his china mug again, thinking about Bilbo’s habit of repeating his words back at him. It wasn’t mocking – more an easy mirroring, a nice symmetry… He wondered what it meant.

“Do you have a family unit?” Thorin asked, hoping to distract himself from trying to deduce Bilbo’s every move. He knew androids often chose their own families: it was a way of creating a support network and providing companionship.

“I have Drogo – he’s a HOBBITv.2908, we were programmed together at Grey Robotics, so we tend to refer to each other as cousins,” Bilbo replied. “Gandalf invites us to tea every now and again.”

“Oh… I, er, had no idea Dr. Gandalf Grey was… well, still alive?”

Bilbo snorted. “I’ll have to tell him that the next time I see him. And yes, Gandalf is still very much alive: he likes to turn up here and cause trouble if he hasn’t heard from me in a while, meddler that he is.”

Thorin hadn’t heard of creators paying their androids house visits before, but then Grey Robotics was a small, and if the reports were anything to go by, rather unusual company. “I’m glad you have Dr. Grey and Drogo,” he said honestly.

“Yes, and Prim too, Drogo’s wife… They’re hoping to adopt soon, it’s just that the waiting lists are so long.”

Thorin felt an unexpected pang of sadness deep in his chest. He knew it wasn’t polite to ask if Prim was also an android, but Bilbo’s mention of waiting lists made him suspect this was the case: human couples got first priority when it came to adoption, followed by inter-sentient couples, then android couples.

“I… I hope the adoption goes well for them,” Thorin said, his tone sincere.

Bilbo smiled. “I hope so too, I’d like to be an uncle.”

“I think you’d be a very good one.”

“I’ll be coming to you for tips,” Bilbo said, eyes sparkling with humour.

Thorin returned a smile, even as his stomach twisted… He was sure Bilbo had noticed by now that his mug was empty. He didn’t know if the android would offer him another, if he would ask him to come for tea again. Thorin had used up the one good excuse he had for dropping by uninvited and his chest was suddenly feeling impossibly tight at the prospect of never seeing Bilbo again. Maybe he should give the android his work tablet number, just in case he ever needed A.C.O.R.N. again so he could bypass their operators and reach a mechatronic straight away… Or maybe he could give Bilbo his personal number – would that be too improper?

“You’ve finished your tea,” Bilbo said quietly, as if he knew exactly what Thorin had been thinking.  

“Yes… It was, er, very good tea,” Thorin replied, wondering if he was about to be given his marching orders.

“Flattery will get you everywhere with me,” Bilbo grinned. “Now, would you like another? Something else?”

It took Thorin a moment to realise when Bilbo said ‘something else’, he meant a different kind of tea. “I… You said you had Yorkshire Platinum?” Thorin hoped his relief at being invited to stay didn’t show in his expression.

“Of course, wouldn’t want to let the side down.” Bilbo rose from his armchair. “How do you take it? Milk? Sugar?”

“Milk, no sugar, please.”

“Hmm, I find you can tell a lot about a person from the way they take their tea,” Bilbo said, moving to the library doorway.

Thorin’s stomach flipped. “…And what does that say about me?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Bilbo answered slyly, before disappearing into the corridor.

Listening to Bilbo’s barefooted steps echoing away towards the kitchen, Thorin leant back into the armchair and groaned into his hands. Maybe he shouldn’t be relying on Bilbo to make the move, to invite him back… Maybe he should just give him his number and be done with it… Or maybe he should be even more proactive and actually ask the android to dinner… But perhaps that was moving a bit too quickly… Would coffee be more appropriate?

The thoughts were racing round and round Thorin’s head, making his temples ache, when suddenly a very familiar, piercing ring brought all his agonising to a halt.

“Thorin! Your tablet!” Bilbo called from the kitchen.

“Shit,” Thorin muttered. It seemed that, as ever, the universe was determined to make life difficult.

He stepped out into the corridor, thinking he should turn left, but not being entirely sure. “Bilbo… Where’s the kitchen?”

“Turn left! I’m coming to find you!”

Thorin followed the twist of the wooden hallway, once again finding himself wandering the maze of Bag End. He turned a corner and Bilbo appeared with the ringing tablet in one hand and his kit bag in the other.

“Thank you,” Thorin said, lifting the bag over his shoulder and taking the tablet. The bright red ‘Emergency Call-Out’ sign was flashing on the screen and he quickly swiped it to reveal the A.C.O.R.N. operator on the other end. Bofur was sitting at his desk, headset in place underneath his trademark hat.

“Hi Thorin, really sorry to call you back out,” the operator said apologetically. “But there’s been a nasty traffic collision on the M91 – we’ve got a count of four android casualties so far and the juniors I sent are freaking out, I need a senior mechatronic on the scene ASAP.”

“Alright, I’ll be right there,” Thorin said, tapping the info box to confirm the call-out. “Can you send me all the details whilst I’m on route?

“Will do, sorry again for interrupting your evening,” Bofur said, and he definitely winked before the screen went dark.

Thorin wasn’t sure what to make of that… until he realised Bilbo had been standing behind him the whole time. Ah.

“You need to go,” Bilbo said, smiling a little sadly, as he started guiding Thorin towards the front door.

“Yes, sorry about this…” Thorin’s mouth had gone very dry and the weight in his stomach was back. Should he ask Bilbo now? Or was this a conversation for when they had more time? But would they even have more time if he didn’t give Bilbo a way to contact him?

They had reached the green door, which slid open with a soft hiss of metal gears.

“Not at all, your duty calls,” Bilbo smiled. “Thank you for the check-up… and the chat.”

“Thank you for the tea,” Thorin said. “Bilbo –”

The tablet lit up again and suddenly dialogue boxes were opening with panicked messages from the group of junior mechatronics, along with image attachments and diagnostic reports.

“It’s fine, Thorin, I promise,” Bilbo said softly. “Now other androids need your help, I don’t want to keep you.”

Thorin nodded, knowing he was being dismissed. Any other parting words never quite made it past his lips as he descended the stone steps. He looked back over his shoulder and Bilbo offered a small wave, watching him from the circular doorway.

For the second time in a week, Thorin found himself getting back into his van and driving away from Bag End, the oak tree on the hill, and Bilbo Baggins. He couldn’t bear to look in the rear view mirror this time and instead focused on the lane snaking away through the hills. His tablet was buzzing frantically with more messages, but Thorin found that all he could think about was Bilbo asking him if he’d wanted the small, crinkled leaf, and that maybe he should have put it in his pocket after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gorgeous art featured in this chapter is by the lovely Shipsicle and this is the piece that inspired ‘between synapses and circuits’, so please make sure you go and show Ship some love. I would also like to point out that she is also responsible for the added tag of ‘sexy sexy horticulture’. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I’ll get the third chapter – where we’ll be meeting Dis, Fili, and Kili – to you ASAP! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just imagine Bilbo sitting on his tablet and a screen pops up with ‘Please prove you’re not a robot’ and a captcha box. Sweating, he quickly passes his tablet over to Thorin.

[[Link to Art]](https://shipsicle.tumblr.com/post/175469151811/new-chapterrrr-mistakenmagic-has-posted-a-new)

 

“Looking for Dis?”

Thorin turned to greet Oin as the grey-haired doctor appeared by the nurses’ station. “Yeah, I’ve brought her coffee, as demanded.” He lifted the large, re-usable cup in his hand in a mock toast.

“She’s just finishing up in the Day Room,” Oin said, before collecting his tablet and heading off towards his next patient with a smile and a wave.

Moving towards the lift, Thorin did a double-take as an android limped past, golden hair flashing under the corridor’s strip lighting. For a moment, he had seen Bilbo’s face mapped out in the pale synthetic skin… but the android currently eyeing him with a confused and rather irritating expression definitely wasn’t Bilbo. Realising he was staring, Thorin muttered a gruff ‘sorry’ and turned away, jabbing at the lift button with more force than was strictly necessary.

That Saturday morning marked eleven days since Thorin had sat with Bilbo in his library, china cup in hand, and every day that followed had only increased the horrible weight in Thorin’s stomach. The android hadn’t got in touch via A.C.O.R.N. and every evening, Thorin had had to resist the urge to follow all those winding country lanes that would lead him to Bag End and to Bilbo.

The lift doors slid open with a chime and Thorin stepped in, fingers flexing around the coffee cup, nodding to the man who was leaning into a metallic crutch. His heart still hadn’t returned to its normal thump by the time he reached the Day Room on the fourth floor, but he steeled himself against the lingering sickly feelings and pushed the image of Bilbo hobbling past him from his mind, lest Dis sense something was bothering him and begin an interrogation.

The Day Room was abuzz with activity and Thorin realised he had arrived during visiting hours. Blue Mountains was the largest intersentient rehabilitation facility in the North and it was also one of the only clinics that subsidised the cost of android healthcare. Thorin had to admit it always made him feel a little better about the world when he came here and saw humans and androids working together, being cared for with the same amount of dignity and respect, socialising and simply coexisting with an ease rarely found in the cities.

Dis always said that there was never a dull day in her job, with Blue Mountains providing everything from physiotherapy for a pulled hamstring to neurological rehabilitation. Many of the androids at the clinic were there to get help in adjusting to a newly-fitted arm or leg or co-ordinate their movements after more serious circuitry repairs. A few were also in it for the long-haul as they recovered from nasty viruses which had completely impaired both their cognitive and physical functions – but with time and patience, they too were able to heal.

Thorin scanned the room, spotting his sister kneeling by a pyjama-clad android next to the window. In a white blouse and dark linen trousers, Dis was fairly easy to locate amidst the crowds of dressing gowns and scrubs. He arrived at her side as she straightened up and placed a reassuring hand on the android’s shoulder.

“Ah, coffee!” was the first thing she said, as she took the cup from Thorin.

“Good morning to you too,” Thorin grinned. “Are the sprogs here yet?”

Dis nodded, closing her eyes with relief as she felt herself being recaffeinated. “Vili dropped them off about an hour ago, they’re in the Games Room.”

Thorin was pretty sure that Dis and her ex-husband had had the most amicable divorce in history, deciding that they simply worked better as friends. Vili usually had the boys alternate weekends, but was needed at a conference that evening so Fili and Kili had been with him since Thursday instead. Dis didn’t always bring her sons with her for the shorter weekend shifts, but it was good experience for Fili’s application to Ironfoot Robotics and both of them felt quite at home at the clinic. Thorin also knew that Kili’s boundless energy was good for the patients, with his easy humour and complete lack of prejudice.

“You can go in and make sure they’re not cheating in their ping pong tournament,” Dis prompted, watching her brother with a slightly calculating expression. “I promise I won’t be long.”

“Alright, see you in there.” Thorin tried to convince himself Dis’ blue eyes weren’t burning into the back of his head as he weaved his way through the clusters of chairs and disappeared into the Games Room.

The tournament had drawn quite a crowd and there were many patients and relatives, along with a few nurses, gathered around the ping pong table where Fili and Kili were playing a doubles match against a young woman and an android, both in baggy sports gear. Thorin smiled to himself when he peered around and saw how invested the onlookers were in the game – and it appeared some of them were actually operating some kind of betting pool.

He had no idea his nephews were so proficient at ping pong, but they were moving almost completely in sync, wearing matching looks of determination. Thorin’s eyes moved to their opponents, noting the blue compression sleeve around the top of the woman’s arm and the way the android’s hand jerked every so often, suggesting he was still adjusting to circuitry repairs. Despite their injuries, the pair were still keeping Fili and Kili on their toes, sending the little white ping pong ball bouncing back with confident strokes from their bats.

“Fee!” Kili cried, when his brother made a dive and missed, the ball rolling onto the floor.

A mixture of boos and cheers rose up as credit definitely changed hands. The four competitors relaxed their postures then, stretching their arms and rolling their shoulders as the crowd began to disperse.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Fili said, ruffling Kili’s mop of dark hair. “Erin’s backhanders are just too good.”

Erin and her partner moved around the table, and although clearly ready to throw a sulk at their defeat, Kili joined his brother in shaking their hands.

“Uncle Thorin!” Kili’s dark eyes brightened when he caught sight of Thorin standing by the pool table. He rushed over and wrapped his arms around his uncle’s waist in a crushing hug.

“Hey,” Thorin said warmly, giving Kili’s shoulders a squeeze. He was sure his youngest nephew was a good few inches taller than when he last saw him a couple of weeks ago. He was all limbs at the moment, this latest growth spurt making him appear a little awkward in his lankiness, but Kili didn’t seem fazed at all, and it certainly hadn’t affected his coordination. “I had no idea you were so good at ping pong.”

“Yeah, I’m loads better than Fili,” Kili replied, releasing his uncle and giving his brother a pointed glare.

Fili only laughed. “I’ll make it up to you, Kee. I promise I’ll be in better shape when Erin and Dane are up for a rematch.”

“Isn’t it about time you got a haircut?” Thorin asked with a smirk, giving Fili’s loose blonde ponytail a gentle tug.

Fili only rolled his eyes. “Pot, kettle, black, Uncle… Mum said you cried when she cut your ponytail off.”

“I was young.”

“You were thirty-four.”

Thorin chuckled and put a hand on Fili’s shoulder, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Right, let’s be having you – your mum should be ready to go by now.”

The three of them headed back into the Day Room, Fili and Kili murmuring greetings to patients they were obviously friendly with as they moved towards the reception desk where Dis was signing out.

“Are we in the van?” Fili asked, a hopeful expression on his face.

Dis’ car was currently going through its upgrades so Thorin had offered to drive them all out for lunch.

When his uncle didn’t answer with an affirmative straight away, Fili let out a groan. “No, uncle! Not the deathtrap!”

“Ponto is not a deathtrap,” Thorin said defensively. He was very fond of his Volkswagen Ponto – it was an electric hybrid that had once been very ahead of its time, but was now considered a relic from a past age. Thorin steadfastly refused to buy a new car and had instead spent the past two decades lovingly repairing Ponto and treating him to new parts and the occasional repaint.

“I don’t want to die before Erin asks us for a rematch,” Kili whined, offering Thorin his best puppy eyes and lip wobble.

“Ponto is perfectly safe,” Thorin insisted, unhappy at hearing his baby being slandered in such a way. “You’re not going to die, Kili.”

“But it’s a museum on wheels,” Fili moaned.

“A rustbucket,” Kili agreed.

“If a scrapyard and old Fatty Bolger’s toolshed had a baby, it would be Ponto.”

“No, if a scrapyard and old Fatty Bolger’s toolshed had a baby, then that baby married the creaky climbing frame in our garden, and _they_ had a baby, it would be –”

 “Alright, enough!” Thorin sighed. “Well, if the two of you really don’t like Ponto that much, then I guess you’ll both be walking to Arkendale…”

“It might be safer,” Fili grinned.

“You want to walk fifteen miles on a sunny day like this, be my guest.”

“Ugh,” Fili and Kili said in unison.

“That’s what I thought… Now let’s go and get your mother.”

 

…

 

“Have you got the M.app?”

“We don’t need the M.app.”

“Thorin, it’s fifteen miles of country roads, we need to use the M.app…”

“I know where I’m going.”

“You once got lost following the A59 to Beamsley and that road is literally a straight line!”

“Okay, okay, it’s in the bloody glove compartment!”

Dis flashed him a wicked grin as she fished the M.app satellite navigation system out of the glove compartment and began tapping in their destination. The car fell into quiet as the M.app was fixed into place on Ponto’s dashboard and Thorin begrudgingly checked that he had taken the right turning at the last roundabout.

“So…” Dis said, drawing out the syllable in a way that made Thorin’s fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel. “How have you been?”

“Alright,” Thorin replied, raising an eyebrow at his sister. “Why?”

“Oh nothing,” Dis said, sipping her coffee. “I just wondered if you’d been surprisingly sociable recently.”

“Surprisingly sociable?” Thorin parroted back, now even more confused. He’d spent Friday evening in the pub with Dwalin and he’d gone with a group of mechatronics to play a few games of snooker the previous weekend. That was about it.

“Maybe spending your evenings with someone special?” Dis asked, with mock innocence, and a devilish look in her blue eyes.

“Someone special…?”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Fili leaned forward, pressing his knees into the back of Thorin’s seat. “Uncle, Mum wants to know who your new boyfriend is and why you didn’t tell us you were seeing someone!”

Thorin almost swerved Ponto into a ditch and the little car gave a screech of protest as it rattled over the road. “ _New boyfriend_?” he spluttered. “I… I don’t have a new boyfriend!”

“It’s okay, Uncle Thorin, Bofur said he looked really nice!” Kili piped up from the backseat.

“Bofur…?” Thorin’s heart gave a painful jolt inside his chest when the realisation struck: they were talking about Bilbo. He was going to kill Bofur. “That wasn’t my boyfriend,” he said, wishing his voice didn’t sound so strangled. “Bilbo… Bilbo is just a client, I was on a call when Bofur sent out the emergency alert.”

“Bofur said that he was an android. That’s cool, Uncle, we’re happy for you.”

“Did you not listen to a word I’ve just said?” Thorin could feel the growl building in his throat and his chest felt very tight.

“Bofur commented that the two of you looked very cosy.” Dis was clearly enjoying herself.

“I was just there to check that Bilbo’s arm was healing without any malfunctions.”

“So it was a scheduled check-up…?”

Thorin dared to glance across at Dis and immediately wished he hadn’t. Stupid, omniscient sister.

“I mean, you can’t blame Bofur for misunderstanding, Uncle,” Fili said, still leaning forward. “Especially with the way he said Bilbo was looking at you.”

Thorin’s stomach lurched. “What?”

“Bofur said he had the soppiest look on his face,” Fili explained, before putting his hands over Kili’s ears and keeping them in place despite his brother’s complaints. “But also that he looked like he wanted to climb you ‘til he overclocked his circuits.”

“Fili, was that last bit really necessary?” Dis asked, turning to her eldest with disapproval.

But Thorin barely heard her as his stomach skidded about inside him, doing a series of giddy flips… Had Bilbo really been looking at him like that? His mind was suddenly bursting with images of the golden-haired android, his bright smile and brighter eyes. Thorin knew they had only spent two afternoons together, but now he once again felt the loss of his company in the form of a gnawing ache inside his chest.

“Can… can we please talk about something else?” Thorin said, trying not to grit his teeth. “Kili, how’s school?”

“I got excluded!”

“What?!” Thorin looked in the rearview mirror to confirm that his nephew didn’t seem overly concerned by his exclusion.

“You didn’t get excluded,” Dis sighed. “I rang in and got it sorted.”

“What happened?” Thorin asked, genuinely worried. Aside from Kili’s fairly lucrative mechanic business – he’d stopped accepting payment in the form of VR games and chocolate now – he rarely got into any trouble at school.

“The sanding machine wasn’t working properly in my Traditional Tech lesson,” Kili shrugged. “So I recalibrated it when Mr. Gorbag wasn’t looking.”

Thorin couldn’t help but smile at that. Kili’s grandmother would have been proud. “And they tried to exclude you for that?”

“Mr. Gorbag said it was dangerous behaviour or something… I just made him look incontepent.”

“ _Incompetent_ ,” Fili corrected. “And yes you did.” He ruffled Kili’s hair and Kili quickly pushed his hand away.

“Thorin…?”

Thorin looked over at his sister. “What now?”

“You should have taken the last left onto Moor Lane.”

With a particularly colourful show of melodrama, Thorin brought Ponto to a clanking halt on the empty road, executed a fairly dodgy u-turn, and then they went rattling on towards their destination.

 

…

 

The village of Arkendale, consisting of one pub, a defunct post box, and a collection of cottages, didn’t usually make it onto most satellite navigation systems, however, the street market that had sprung up there over the past few years now made it a worthy destination for tourists and thus it was quite literally put on the M.app.

They parked up in a shaded area at the bottom of the high street – something it was by default, being, in fact, the only street in Arkendale.

Climbing out of the car, Kili slammed his door with a bang, looking to his uncle and grinning. “I just wanted to see if the door would fall off.”

Thorin patted Ponto’s bonnet and soothed him with gentle coos whilst his family collectively rolled their eyes.

The little market stalls stretched the full length of the street and Thorin was quite sure this was what it felt like to step back in time. There was certainly something nostalgic about the rows of wooden tables and their multicoloured awnings, fluttering in the light breeze like the celebratory bunting of old. The market specialised in handmade goods from independent sellers and it made the shopping centres in the cities look quite cold and clinical in comparison.

Fili and Kili ran off up the street and Thorin suspected they were looking for Mr. Goodbody’s chocolate and fudge bazaar – it was very rare to find sweets that were made by hand and not by machines in a factory nowadays, so he knew his nephews would be stocking up. Dis was a little way ahead, inspecting the delicate jewellery laid out on a blue velvet table, each link in the silver and gold chains catching the light so that everything seemed to glitter like freshly-mined gems. Thorin was content to wander slowly up the street, not really looking for anything in particular, just soaking in the chatter of excited customers, the calls of the venders, and the satisfyingly quaint feeling of the whole experience.

About half-way up the street, drawing closer to The Green Dragon pub at the top of it, Thorin’s eye was caught by a stall selling second-hand books. A hand-painted sign declared it to be ‘Miss Fairbairn’s Book Emporium’, offering the buying, selling and valuing of antique books, as well as binding and restoration services. Moving closer, Thorin scanned the various titles, finding himself quite enchanted by the bright artwork and beautifully calligraphed lettering of the volumes on offer.

“Are you looking for anything in particular, dear?” Miss Fairbairn asked, smiling kindly at Thorin.

“Oh…” Thorin felt a little colour creeping into his cheeks. “You, er, wouldn’t happen to have anything on… plants, would you?”

He wasn’t sure what made him say it. Surely it was ridiculous to entertain ideas of buying gifts for someone you might never see again, but still his heart was thudding against his ribs as Miss Fairbairn ran her finger over a shelf of books behind the counter.

“Got green fingers have you?” she laughed, selecting a hardback bound in green leather.

“Erm, no,” Thorin answered honestly. “Just… know someone who does.”

“This is an illustrated encyclopaedia of common garden plants,” Miss Fairbairn explained, opening the book’s crisp pages to reveal vividly-coloured photographs and diagrams of flowers Thorin definitely couldn’t name. “A lovely present for a botanically-inclined friend.”

Thorin smiled, reaching into his jeans pocket for his wallet. “Right, I’ll, er, I’ll take it… How much do I owe you?”

“Three hundred and fifty for the encyclopaedia.”

Thorin almost choked. “ _Three hundred and fifty pounds_?”

Miss Fairbairn offered him a wry smile, not seeming in the least bit offended. “I take it you haven’t bought a book in a while, dear?”

“No… no, I haven’t,” Thorin admitted.  “I’m sorry, I just had no idea.”

“Most of these have been out of print for about seventy years and when Penguin went paperless I had to keep my prices competitive… But I could let you have it for three hundred, if that’s of any help?” Miss Fairbairn said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

For one mad moment, Thorin was very tempted to shell out the three hundred quid and work as much over time as possible for the next six months… but then he had a stern word with himself and left his wallet in his jeans. “It really is a beautiful book, I just don’t think I can budget for it at the moment.”

“Of course, dear,” Miss Fairbairn said, placing the green tome back on the shelf behind her. “Would you like me to reserve it for you, just in case? I don’t mind holding it for a few months.”

“That… that would be really kind of you,” Thorin said, the heat creeping up his neck again. “Thank you.”

Miss Fairbairn made a note on her tablet and they parted with a smile, with Thorin trying desperately not to start calculating just how many extra shifts he’d need to sign up for to be able to afford the book.

He’d just moved on to a stall selling hand-whittled wooden ornaments when a voice made him stop dead in his tracks. Heart rising into his throat, Thorin slowly turned and, sure enough, just a few stalls down, surrounded by a jungle of potted plants, was Bilbo Baggins… having a very animated conversation with his sister. _“I sell my flowers at the street markets…”_ The words whirled around Thorin’s head and his legs carried him forward before his mind could properly register what he was seeing, and then all of a sudden he found himself face to face with the curly-haired android he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for the past three weeks.

“Thorin!” Bilbo gasped, a huge smile spreading across his face, and it made Thorin’s stomach flip.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Dis asked, raising a surprised eyebrow as she turned to Thorin.

“Erm…” Thorin very much wished he’d found Bilbo before Dis.

“Thorin here was kind enough to stitch me up after I had a nasty run-in with my garden shears,” Bilbo explained, green and blue eyes glittering, before offering his hand to Dis. “I’m Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

“Bilbo…?” Dis shook Bilbo’s hand, glancing back at her brother, clearly almost beside herself with glee. “Lovely to meet you, Bilbo. I’m Dis, Thorin’s sister.”

Bilbo’s expression brightened even further. “Oh, I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Have you now?” Dis asked, smirking at Thorin again. “I must apologise that my useless brother has told us so little about his very charming and talented new friend.”

Bilbo’s pale cheeks grew pink at Dis’ compliments. “I suppose there’s not much to tell, but I must say that Thorin is far from useless… He’s been very _polite and attentive_ actually.”

Bilbo smiled at Thorin as he repeated the words from their first meeting and his heart executed a complicated feat of acrobatics as he realised that the android had just defended him in front of Dis.

“My brother being polite and attentive?” Dis said, feigning surprise. “Well, Mr. Baggins you must be very special indeed.”

“Mum! Uncle Thorin! Look at all the fudge I bought!”

Before Bilbo had chance to reply to Dis’ comment, Fili and Kili had appeared behind them, laden with clear cellophane bags of fudge and chocolate.

“I got the peppermint and chocolate swirl for you, Mum,” Kili said, handing Dis a package tied with green ribbon. “I know it’s your favourite.”

“Aww, thank you, sweetheart,” Dis said, pulling Kili forward so she could kiss his dark hair. “That was very thoughtful of you… Fili, did you get your honeycomb?”

“Oh, yes.” Fili held up an enormous bag of chocolate covered honeycomb pieces.

“And this must be Fili and Kili,” Bilbo said, beaming. “It’s wonderful to meet you both.”

“Hey,” Fili said, clearly not wanting to be rude, but still a little confused.

“This is Bilbo Baggins, your uncle’s new friend,” Dis said, by way of introduction.

“No shit, really?” Fili said, eyes widening as he looked Bilbo up and down.

Kili smacked his brother’s arm. “Hi, Bilbo! I’m Kili and this is Fili, he’s part android!”

Kili suddenly reached down and pulled up the leg of Fili’s jeans to reveal his prosthetic. When he was only a year old, Fili had been struck down with a severe case of meningoccal septicaemia which had unfortunately led to the loss of his left foot.

“Oi, kiddo, you can’t just go showing off my ankles in public,” Fili grinned, wrapping an arm around Kili’s shoulders. “You’ll cause quite the scandal!”

“Oh, I’ve always been fond of a good scandal,” Bilbo said, winking at the boys.

Fili had been very self-conscious about his prosthetic leg when he was in his early teens, so it made Thorin’s chest swell to see him joking with his brother… and he only admired Bilbo more for not batting an eyelid nor treating his nephew any differently.

“Okay, Kee and I are going to go and check out those freaky wood carvings,” Fili announced, putting his hands on Kili’s shoulders and steering him away. “Maybe you should come and have a look too, Mum?”

Thorin thanked whatever God was up there that Fili had more tact than their whole family put together.

It took a moment for Dis to understand, but then she was smiling slyly again. “I’ll catch you up, boys, just need to pay for my plants. And don’t you two go eating any of your purchases, you’ll spoil your lunch!”

“Uh-huh… See you later, Bilbo,” Fili said, with a cheery wave.

“You’re really nice!” Kili shouted over his shoulder as his brother pulled him away.

“Your sons are wonderful, Dis, you must be very proud,” Bilbo smiled, as he collected the transaction cube from beneath the counter.

“I am,” Dis replied, expression softening as she tapped her credit card against the cube for a contactless payment. “Right… I’ll leave you two to chat. It was lovely to meet you, Bilbo.”

“And you, Dis… I hope the short-leaved aloe and jade plant work out for you.”

“I’m sure they will!” Dis collected her tray of succulents from the stall and then, after one last pointed look in her brother’s direction, she went off to join her sons.

Thorin was sure he stared at Bilbo for a full minute before the power of speech returned to him. He wasn’t quite over the shock of seeing the android again, but to his credit, Bilbo didn’t seem bothered by either Thorin’s intense gaze or his silence.

“Hello,” he said quietly, watching Thorin with a fond expression.

“…Hello.” Thorin was proud of himself for managing any form of greeting at all.

“Well, what are the chances?” Bilbo said, adjusting the sleeve of his burgundy cardigan. “If I’d known I would be seeing my favourite mechatronic today, I would have made myself look more presentable.”

Thorin’s mind was still stuck on the words ‘favourite mechatronic’ as he answered: “I… I think you look nice.”

“Very kind of you to say.” Bilbo’s cheeks were slightly pink. “It’s strange seeing you without your A.C.O.R.N. overalls.”

“Er, yeah…” Thorin rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not working today.”

“It’s a nice kind of strange, though,” Bilbo added, his eyes almost appearing to glitter in the midday sun. “And how splendid to meet your family too.”

“Sorry you had to be subjected to my sister,” Thorin said, managing a smile. “Whatever she’s told you about me, it’s all lies.”

Bilbo chuckled, making the lines on his face bounce in the most captivating way. “I sincerely hope it isn’t.”

They fell back into silence and Thorin surveyed the array of greenery before him, eyes moving over the serpentine vines that were coiled around the stall’s awning, the range of hand-packaged seeds and bulbs, to the rows of terracotta plant pots… He stopped when he saw the many-petalled orange flowers that had caught his eye when he made his first visit to Bag End.

“See something you like?”

It took Thorin a moment to realise Bilbo meant the flowers. “Oh… er, yes… These ones? They’re beautiful.”

“Aren’t they just? It’s a marigold hybrid – designed so that it has twice the number of petals as the common species,” Bilbo explained. “They can be replanted in flowerbeds or you can keep them in the pot – you might just need to move them to a bigger one once they’ve outgrown it.”

“I don’t actually have any flowerbeds,” Thorin admitted, hoping Bilbo wouldn’t be too disappointed in him. “But I’ll definitely move them to a larger plant pot.”

“Excellent! I’ll just get you a bag and some nutrient packets.”

Thorin watched as Bilbo packaged his new marigolds and then slipped his wallet from his back pocket.

“Oh! No, Thorin, please, I can’t charge you,” Bilbo said, waving Thorin’s credit card away.

“Bilbo… You don’t need to do that.” Thorin held out his card.

“Think of it as a thank you,” Bilbo said happily. “A gift for being such a polite and attentive mechatronic.”

“If you’re sure?” Thorin said, card still hovering in his hand.

“Of course, and I’m always glad when I know my plants are going to a good home.”

Thorin nodded, reluctantly pocketing his credit card and lifting the brown paper bag from the stall.

“But if you do get stuck, please do take my contact number,” Bilbo said, lifting a call card printed on a thin sheet of silver from a box in front of him. “Any queries you might have about hybrid marigold care, don’t hesitate to give me a ring.”

Thorin’s mouth went dry as he accepted the card, eyes moving over the digits that meant he finally had a way to contact Bilbo beyond turning up unannounced outside Bag End. “Thank you,” he whispered, slipping the card into his pocket. “I –”

He froze, the question dying on his tongue, and Thorin cursed himself for not being braver.

“You’re welcome,” Bilbo replied. He looked as if he was about to say something further when a balding man wearing an incredibly ugly green and purple jumper suddenly appeared at the stall.

“Do you have any roses?” he asked, sidling in next to Thorin.

“Of course, sir,” Bilbo said, the picture of politeness as he gestured towards his potted roses. “Do you have a particular colour or genus in mind?”

The man began a very long-winded tale about the current state of his garden and Bilbo’s eyes flickered to Thorin as he mouthed ‘sorry’. Thorin waved his hand, communicating that it was fine, and then lifted his bag and whispered a thank you for the marigolds. The android returned a beautiful smile and after one last, lingering look, Thorin turned away, heading back down the street towards the wood carving stall. It was the third time in so many weeks that he had found himself walking away from Bilbo Baggins, but this time he had a contact number in his pocket, and for Thorin, that definitely made all the difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arkendale is a real village in North Yorkshire! I stumbled upon it when I was researching for this chapter and I figured it was too good not to use ;) The Volkswagen Ponto is not actually a real car and ‘Ponto’ comes from the Baggins family tree. 
> 
> I also want to send massive congratulations to the super-talented Shipsicle, who has just submitted her thesis. Please do go and check out all her amazing art at shipsicle.tumblr.com! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to this chapter, I am now an expert in tropical flora and fauna. Also, if you haven’t seen the video of Sir David Attenborough getting repeatedly interrupted by a horny bird-of-paradise, then get yourself to YouTube this instant!

After another round of pacing, Thorin returned to the kitchen table and sat back down opposite his tablet, having the unnerving feeling that the directory screen with its little green ‘call’ icon was offering him some kind of challenge, goading him into action. Thorin drummed the blunt fingernails of one hand against the polished wood, his other twitching just a little closer to the tablet… before staggering to his feet again, the chair’s legs scraping against the grey tiles, and moving over to the window where he pressed his sweaty palms into the cool marble of the worktop.

It had been four days since Arkendale, four days since Bilbo Baggins had slipped the silver contact card into Thorin’s hand. He had entered the number into his tablet directory as soon as he got home, for fear of losing the little card and therefore losing all hope of being able to see Bilbo again without looking like a stalker. The week had ambled on in a sluggish, sunny daze, with Thorin finding his heart suddenly starting to thump against his ribs without reason… until he realised his thoughts had strayed onto golden curls and lingered on the beauty of flawed code. His stomach bounced whenever he opened his contact list and saw the number sitting there, like a gift, like a beckoning finger.

It was exquisite torture, but finally Thorin had made the decision to call Bilbo and extend an invitation – it didn’t have to be a date, just the two of them getting to know each other without the labels of ‘mechatronic’ and ‘client’. No, it definitely didn’t have to be a date. Thorin was thus confronted with the equally torturous task of deciding what this not-date should entail. He had initially been relieved when he had very reluctantly called Dis for help and discovered she was working a late-shift at Blue Mountains… However, the conversation with his nephews hadn’t exactly been productive:

_“Why don’t you just go old school, have a nice meal at a fancy restaurant?”_

_“Fili… there is a rather large flaw in that plan.”_

_“What? Too much? What about going out for coffee?”_

_“So Bilbo can just sit and watch me eat…?”_

_“Ohhhhh, right, sorry… Android, got it… Erm…”_

_“Why don’t you take him to the A.C.O.R.N. Outlet? There are lots of things for androids there!”_

_“Because, Kili, that would be like taking someone on a date to Tesco.”_

 

The answer had quite literally popped up when Thorin had been browsing a website that sold second-hand books, specifically those relating to natural history. An advert for the Botanical Gardens had opened itself in a new tab and Thorin’s finger had paused over the little red ‘x’. It seemed the universe had decided to give him a helping hand in suggesting where he should take an android with a master’s degree in Botany and a talent for gardening.

Thorin’s eyes moved to the potted marigolds sitting on the windowsill. The tiny orange petals were flickering like individual flames in the early evening breeze that was creeping in through the opened glass panels. He had always thought himself quite hopeless at taking long-term care of other living things, himself included, which was why he’d never invested in any sort of pet, or even a houseplant… but in a very short space of time he had found himself doting on the little flowers, their bright heads like individual suns, clustered together in a galaxy of glittering amber and green. He had even caught himself talking to them as he watered their pot that morning.

Peeling his sticky palms from the worktop, Thorin drew in a long breath and turned back to the table. The tablet was waiting for him, daring him to do better. With slightly shuffling steps, he returned to the chair and angled the screen so that he would appear in its centre for the video call. That had been another agonising decision, but in the end, Thorin had decided he was willing to let Bilbo see his slightly wild expression if it meant he could also see the android again, which wouldn’t be a possibility if he selected the ‘voice call only’ option. The tablet had been purposefully placed in his kitchen and Thorin had made sure he did all the washing up and scrubbed the surfaces that would appear behind him.

His stomach was tightening into a hard knot, but Thorin forced himself to sit up straight and exhale slowly. Knowing that if he didn’t hit the ‘call’ button in the next three seconds, he would get up and start pacing again, Thorin reached forward and tapped the screen. His hand then flinched away as he gave a nervous wiggle, his heart hammering in his ears.

The chimes continued for another excruciating moment, and then a voice sounded from the blank screen: “Hello, Mr. Bilbo Baggins speaking.”

Just hearing Bilbo’s voice again sent a fluttering through Thorin’s chest and it took him beat to realise that the android must have answered without turning on his tablet-cam.

“Hello…?”

Ah, saying something would probably be a good idea. “Bilbo… It’s Th-Thorin… Thorin Oakenshield… The mechatronic…” So: ten out of ten for effort, two out of ten for execution. Brilliant.

A chuckle sounded from the screen and then Bilbo’s face appeared. The android was sitting in his library – Thorin recognised the leather armchair – with his tablet in his lap. “Hello, Thorin! Apologies for the voice call: I, er, don’t actually get many unknown numbers contacting me.”

Thorin had never heard anyone sound so pleased to see him. Bilbo was grinning so much his pale skin appeared almost luminous. “That… That’s alright. I understand,” he said, his face suddenly feeling very warm.

“Are you having a problem with your marigolds?” Bilbo asked, with a glint in his green-and-blue eyes.

“Oh…” Thorin’s eyes flitted to the marigolds on the sill behind him. “No, they’re… good.  They’re not dead yet.”

“A great achievement for a first-time plant owner!” Bilbo laughed, before pausing, his expression becoming one of definite mischief. “So… Is there something else I can help you with?”

Thorin’s mouth had gone very dry and he sincerely hoped the panic wasn’t showing on his face. “I… I was just wondering…” His stomach was twisting tighter and tighter as if it was wringing itself out. “If… you would like… togototheBotanicalGardenswithme?”

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that?”

Thorin took a breath, then tried again. “Would you like to go to the Botanical Gardens with me?”

“What a splendid idea!” Bilbo said, beaming again. “Of course, Thorin, that would be lovely… What day would be best for you?”

 _Shit, I didn’t think I’d get this far_. “Erm…” All the thoughts in Thorin head were running around and screaming and banging into each other, but still he somehow managed to reply with a coherent: “Is this Saturday okay?”

“I think I can clear my schedule.”

“Right… So, er, shall we say eleven o’ clock? Would you… like me to pick you up?”

“Goodness, no, it’s so out of your way – Drogo should be able to drop me off, don’t worry.”

Thorin was aware that he probably stared for longer than was strictly necessary before replying: “Okay… Well, I’ll see you there then.”

“Saturday at eleven o’ clock, see you there,” Bilbo smiled. “And Thorin… Thank you for calling.”

“N-no problem,” Thorin said quietly. “See you soon.”

“See you soon!” And then, with a wave, Bilbo was gone.

Thorin collapsed back into the chair, chest heaving, and immediately decided to give Dwalin a call. He needed a drink.

 

…

 

Thorin was certain he would’ve sat in his car for a good five minutes if Bilbo hadn’t spotted him and waved. Arriving in the Botanical Gardens carpark, he had pulled into a space and given himself a good talking to. It was in the middle of this self-scolding that he realised Bilbo was actually already there: the android was standing in front of an interactive display by the entrance to the Gardens, CGI parrots hopping about behind him and butterflies appearing to flutter down onto his shoulders. At least he didn’t have to worry about being stood up.

After taking a moment to check his hair in the rear-view mirror and smooth down the collar of the shirt beneath his jumper, Thorin slowly pushed open the door and climbed out. He left Ponto behind him and made his way over to the interactive screen. 

“Good morning!” Bilbo said brightly. He was wearing mustard chinos and a pale blue shirt, with a trademark navy cardigan layered over the top. Thorin tried very hard not to notice that the shirt’s top buttons were undone, revealing a small ‘v’ of synthetic skin.

“Morning,” Thorin replied, coming to a stop in front of him.

What followed was a very awkward pause where they were both clearly trying to figure out the correct way to greet each other. Thorin decided that a hug would definitely not be appropriate… and a handshake would be far too formal, like they were about to sit down for a business meeting. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to pat Bilbo on the shoulder without being weird about it. His hand had just twitched away from his side when Bilbo spoke.

“I love your Volkswagen Ponto,” he said, without a trace of sarcasm in his tone.

“Thank you.” Thorin’s chest felt very fuzzy all of a sudden. “Unfortunately for Ponto, not many people can say the same.”

“I think he’s adorable… And in great condition too.”

“Yeah, I, er, I’ve done a lot of work on him over the years. He had a full paintjob a few months ago.”

“You seem to have a thing for old machines,” Bilbo said innocently, before flashing Thorin a cheeky smile.

“I…” Thorin found he really wasn’t sure how to reply to that and he was left with his mouth hanging open in a rather gormless expression.

“Shall we head in?” Bilbo gestured to the double doors that led to the Botanical Gardens’ main foyer.

Thorin’s mouth snapped shut. “Right, yes…”

Entering the high-ceilinged vestibule, they joined the small queue at the ticket desk. The whole room had a beautiful green glow flickering across the white walls, like the movement of seaweed underwater. Projections of birds swooped and dived from corner to corner and sunlight trickled through the rippled glass skylights. The only thing that shattered this image of natural tranquillity was the man dressed in a rather terrifying parrot costume who was flapping manically by the archway which led through to the Gardens.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” Thorin said softly, surprising himself by actually starting a conversation.

“No, not at all,” Bilbo answered. “Drogo had only just dropped me off when I saw you.”

“Have you thought about learning to drive?” Thorin’s heart jolted when he heard the question come out of his mouth. But then, tact had never really been his strong point.

“Oh, I passed my test years ago,” Bilbo said, sounding unfazed by the question. “Unfortunately, I can’t really afford the insurance at the moment.”

Thorin pressed his lips into a thin line. Insurance Companies had been in a lot of trouble over the past decade for charging their android customers extortionate prices, which was completely counterintuitive as androids installed specific software when they were learning to drive which meant they were far safer drivers than humans. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s quite alright,” Bilbo said, sounding a little sad. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to get myself a little Ponto of my own.”

They shared a small smile as the line moved forward.

After a brief argument in front of the unimpressed ticket cashier, Bilbo agreed to let Thorin pay for his entry as a thank you for the marigolds. They then walked past the flailing parrot-man and into the first garden. The whole space was covered by an enormous glass dome, like being trapped inside a giant terrarium. It was quiet, with most visitors choosing to seek out the more colourful exhibits that boasted wildlife and other photo opportunities. Bilbo, however, seemed quite content to wander along the winding gravel path and Thorin matched his slower pace. They were surrounded by dense greenery, with broad, feathered leaves brushing at their ankles as they passed squat palms and climbing vines and thick, sprawling underbrush. There was something a little prehistoric about it all, like going back in time, before the words to name these plants even existed.

Thorin dared to sneak a glance at Bilbo and the fuzziness instantly returned to his chest. The android was peering around the garden with wide eyes, as if trying to take everything in all at once, and he seemed to be genuinely in awe of what he was seeing. Thorin decided to risk another look, just so he could commit Bilbo’s expression of wonder to memory.

“These cycads are exquisite,” Bilbo whispered, reaching out to touch a large crest of dark green leaves.  

“Yes,” Thorin agreed, not quite sure what else he could say about this particular plant. He joined Bilbo in examining the cycad, gently rubbing one leathery leaf between his finger and thumb.

“You know, they’ve survived several mass extinctions,” Bilbo mused. “They’ve been growing on this planet for millions of years, and they’ll be here long after we’ve gone.”

Their eyes met as they looked up from the leaf. Thorin was struck by the sagacity in Bilbo’s words and it made something inside him ache a little.

“Have you been to the Botanical Gardens before?” he asked, as they continued along the path, the only sounds being the crunch of their footsteps and the distant hum of the foyer.

“A long time ago, whilst I was still studying,” Bilbo replied. “It’s nice to come back… and the company is considerably better than last time.”

Thorin opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when he felt colour flood his cheeks. He quickly looked away and they continued walking in silence. Bilbo was very close to him now and when the backs of their hands knocked together, Thorin felt his stomach clench. It happened again a moment later and their little fingers touched, almost twining. His gaze slipped to Bilbo, but the android was studying the vines creeping up to the ceiling, seeming unaware of what their hands were doing.

The path ended and they arrived at the doors which slid open to admit them to the next dome. Thorin wasn’t quite ready for the drastic change of scenery as he suddenly found himself standing in what appeared to be the Amazon rainforest. The quiet was replaced by the excited chatter of visitors, the delighted shrieks of children, and the musical calls of various birds – that were definitely not projections – as they fluttered from branch to branch and crossed the dome in high arcs. Thorin had read online that the Botanical Gardens had received much praise for its conservation work and many of the endangered species housed there might have gone extinct if they hadn’t been offered this alternative home.

He was about to say as much to Bilbo, but with a double-take he discovered that the android was no longer by his side.

“Thorin! Over here!”

This garden was considerably larger than the previous one and Bilbo had somehow managed to move further into the pseudo-jungle without Thorin’s notice. He found Bilbo crouching by a cluster of iridescent blue flowers that looked almost too perfect to be real.

“Cattleya orchids,” Bilbo explained, cupping one flower between two fingers. “I’ve never seen them with this colouring before.”

“They’re very… blue,” Thorin commented, feeling he should do better than his response to the cycads.

“They are indeed,” Bilbo said, before pressing the orchid to Thorin’s stomach. “The same colour as your jumper.”

Thorin tensed as Bilbo’s fingers brushed over his navel. “I… should have realised it’d be warm in here, with this place basically being a giant greenhouse.”

Bilbo only shrugged. “It means I get to watch you take it off later… Oh, look at those boat orchids!”

Bilbo was suddenly on his feet, rushing off to a group of pink and purple flowers further down the path, leaving Thorin with a sensation close to whiplash. Had he just imagined Bilbo’s comment…? A spike of heat crawled up his neck. If he hadn’t, it meant Bilbo was rather good at this whole flirting lark and Thorin needed to up his game.

Stumbling up and after Bilbo, he arrived at the android’s side just as he was examining an orchid’s delicate, blushing petals. “These ones are very beautiful,” he said quietly, sincerely wishing he knew more about flowers and could make some more informed statements.

“Yes, it’s quite making me want to invest in some more orchids for my own greenhouse,” Bilbo said, eyes moving over the information touchscreen planted in the soil.

“There’s a nursery next to the gift shop… Perhaps you could buy some there?”

“What a brilliant idea!” Bilbo was looking at him like he’d just made a ground-breaking scientific discovery and Thorin rubbed at the back of his neck.

They moved further through the dome, with Bilbo pointing out different flowers with interesting titbits about each, until they came to a section with large trees that reached proudly up to brush the arcs of glass with leafy fingertips. Thick, woody vines – which a touchscreen declared to be lianas – were wrapped around trunks and branches like ancient serpents. The canopy was dotted with blurry jewels of colour as birds swooped from branch to branch, their enthusiastic chirps and trills echoing around the umbrella of green.

“Oh, look! There’s birdseed!”

Bilbo was inspecting a machine that did appear to dispense seeds. Thorin tried not to notice the way all the birds suddenly swivelled in their direction. He watched as Bilbo waved his wristband over the scanner then placed his hand under a silver shoot which filled his palm with pale brown pellets and darker-coloured seeds. He straightened up and returned to Thorin, one hand held out in front of him.

“Would you like to get some?”

“Erm…”

Thorin almost shouted when he was suddenly dive-bombed by a ball of green that went whistling past his ear. The offending parrot landed on a nearby branch and let out a cackle. Thorin shot it a fairly murderous glare.

“Thorin, are you scared of birds?” Bilbo asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “I’m sorry, we don’t have to feed them if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Thorin replied, now hoping he hadn’t looked too ridiculous when getting attacked by a dickhead parrot. “I’ll just… watch you.”

“Okay.”  

Thorin almost did a double-take when Bilbo pursed his lips together and whistled in an uncanny imitation of the birdsong surrounding them. It worked almost instantaneously and a small parrot with shimmering green and blue feathers landed on Bilbo’s forearm. It hopped along his cardigan before stopping at his wrist and pecking up the birdfeed. Bilbo didn’t even flinch, just observed with obvious admiration.

“She’s a blue-crowned parakeet,” he murmured. “There aren’t any left in the wild now, but she’s found a safe home here, haven’t you?”

The parakeet took her fill of pellets and seeds, eyed Thorin for an unnerving amount of time with a beady, black gaze, then fluttered off back into the trees. She was replaced by a smaller bird with a brilliant red colouring over its head that landed on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Hello,” Bilbo cooed, giving a few chirps, which made the bird turn to him and tilt its head in confusion. “And you’re even rarer, aren’t you, Mr. Rose-Crowned Parakeet?”

The parakeet abandoned its confusion at the possibility of food and made its way down Bilbo’s arm to nibble at the seeds.

“You’re, er, very good at this,” Thorin said, watching as another parakeet dropped down onto Bilbo’s outstretched fingers.

“Not really, they’re all just used to visitors,” Bilbo smiled, shining eyes following the birds as they flew back up into the canopy. “Would you like to try…?”

Thorin coughed, peering around for another dive-bomber. “Can they, er, sense fear?”

“No, just food,” Bilbo chuckled. “Here…”

He stepped forward and reached for Thorin’s hand. Thorin froze as he lifted it up and smoothed his fingers down so that his palm was held flat. The touch sent prickling shivers running up his arm and his heart was rattling inside his ribs. Bilbo cradled his hand and carefully transferred the remaining birdfeed into his open palm.

“Now hold your hand out flat.” He guided Thorin’s hand so that it was held up between them, fingertips stroking over his knuckles. “No screaming or flailing, and you’ll be just fine.”

Bilbo’s hands dropped away and Thorin had a definite lump in his throat. He didn’t have long to brood on the feel of Bilbo’s hands pressed against his, however, as a rather rotund parrot with fluffy green feathers landed on his wrist and began to gobble down the remaining seeds.

“Aren’t you gorgeous?” Bilbo whispered, and Thorin took a moment just to double-check that he was indeed talking to the parrot. “He’s a red-shouldered macaw… See the little red feathers at his sides?”

The chubby macaw was presenting Thorin with a view of its tail feathers, but he peered around to see the splash of scarlet on either side of his neck. He was left unsurprised when the parrot finished off all the birdfeed – it may have even licked his palm at one point, but he didn’t really want to think about that – and then flapped off into the trees.

“You did so well!”

Bilbo was again looking at Thorin liked he’d just accomplished something ground-breaking and he feared he was starting to look like a red-shouldered macaw. He cleared his throat and smacked his hands together to get rid of the fine grains of pellet dust.

“Oh, Thorin, look!”

Bilbo grabbed his hand and began pulling him over to a different corner of the dome. Thorin followed, fingers twitching against Bilbo’s, as his stomach bounced up into the bottom of his ribs. They arrived at a low-hanging branch which was currently home to one of the strangest birds Thorin had ever seen. If a badly-made toupee and a bird had a baby, this would be the result.

“A greater bird-of-paradise,” Bilbo breathed, still holding Thorin’s hand. “I’ve never seen one before… Just look at those plumes.”

“They’re…” Thorin found he was unable to form a coherent sentence now that his and Bilbo’s fingers were slowly twining together. “It’s, um…”

The maroon and yellow feathered bird suddenly started making quite a racket, dancing about on the branch and lifting the silky golden feathers that covered its back into the air. Bilbo laughed as his hand slipped from Thorin’s.

“What’s it doing?” Thorin asked, one eyebrow raised, as the bird continued to squawk and flap its wings.

“I think it’s a mating display,” Bilbo said, with a smirk. “It appears you have an admirer.”

“Right…” The bird hopped about in front of Thorin, making its plumes sway like wheat in a breeze, giving off a number of very loud caws. “And, er, how do you tell a greater bird-of-paradise that you’re not interested?”

“Oh, but he’s trying so hard to impress you!” Bilbo seemed very amused by the whole thing.

The bird let out an insistent shriek and spun around on the branch, but Thorin only raised his eyebrow further, looking a little frightened.

“I suppose we’ll just have to walk away,” Bilbo said, with a theatrical sigh.

They left the rejected greater bird-of-paradise calling after them and moved on to a set of info-screens. They swiped through the descriptions of birds then Bilbo had a go at an interactive game that required him to place all the dome’s parrots onto their correct countries on a world map. He completed it in one minute, fourteen seconds, which a pop-up told him was the fastest time currently recorded. Thorin thought he was therefore justified in putting a congratulatory hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, letting it linger there for a few moments whilst they soaked in his victory.

It was when they were drawing closer to the entrance to the next dome that Thorin noticed a few whispers, a few odd looks. His chest tightened when he thought they must be directed towards Bilbo, but then he realised there was an android couple standing by the info-screens, with a baby held in a carrier, her head, protected by a pale yellow sunhat, pressed to her mother’s chest. Thorin glanced around, seeing that most visitors were uninterested by the new parents or simply smiling in their direction, but there were also a few frowns, a few dark looks.

“I’d like to go and say hello,” Bilbo said, his voice sounding a little tight. He had obviously noticed the various reactions to the couple.

“Of course,” Thorin nodded, more than on board with a show of solidarity.

They walked over to the pair, who were the picture of doting parents: the male android had a changing bag slung over his shoulder and a blanket in one hand, the other held affectionately to the bottom of his partner’s back. The female android adjusted the carrier, then leaned down to press a kiss to her daughter’s forehead.

“Hello there,” Bilbo said warmly. The couple turned, slightly panicked, but instantly relaxed when they realised they were in the presence of a fellow android. “She’s absolutely beautiful.”

“She is,” the mother replied fondly, as her daughter wrapped a pudgy fist around her finger. “And being very well-behaved so far, considering she spent most of this morning screeching.”

“She’s tired herself out then,” Bilbo grinned. “What’s her name?”

“Amelia Artemis,” the father answered. “A first name she can live with, a middle name to satisfy her geeky parents.”

Bilbo’s grin only widened. “I can understand that, excellent choices.”

“How old is she?” Thorin found he knew just as little about babies as he did about birds, but hoped this was a safe question.

“Almost ten months now,” the mother said, as Amelia gave a soft yawn. “We’ve had her for three, still finding our footing with parenting.”

Bilbo nodded. “Well, it looks like you’re doing a brilliant job so far.” 

“Are you thinking of adopting?” the father asked kindly, looking from Bilbo to Thorin.

Thorin felt as if he’d been doused in cold water.

“Oh, we’re… we’re not together,” Bilbo explained, with a nervous laugh.

The father’s eyes widened with panic. “I’m really sorry, that was very presumptuous of me!”

The mother, however, was directing a rather knowing look at the two of them.

“It’s fine, no harm done,” Bilbo said. “Now, we’ll leave you to explore… the greater birds-of-paradise are particularly friendly!”

They waved goodbye to the young family and passed through the sliding doors into the third dome, which was known as ‘The Butterfly House’, and for obvious reasons: spiralled trails wove through thick underbrush and everywhere, glittering butterflies were perched on flowers and branches and little wooden pedestals that held pieces of fruit. Others were simply floating through the air as they went about important butterfly business.

Bilbo became instantly enchanted by a large black and orange specimen that was sunning itself by the glass, talking to it the way he had done with the birds. Thorin held back, his stomach giving a sickly twist. He wasn’t sure why Bilbo had been so quick to say that they weren’t together… even though it was technically true. The doubts were creeping into his mind like curls of black smoke and he wondered if all Bilbo’s flirting was supposed to be harmless, and not meant to be taken seriously. He could still feel the android’s hands pressed against his, synthetic skin smooth and slightly cool, but sending ripples of electricity up his arms, causing an ache inside his chest.

“Thorin!”

Thorin was pulled from his brooding at Bilbo’s call and he turned to see the android was now hosting at least seven bright blue butterflies. Two had landed on his golden curls, the others fluttering on his arms and shoulders. Their glinting wings were lined with black, like stained glass, and Bilbo now resembled some kind of forest nymph, a mythological creature that belonged completely to nature. He looked absolutely overjoyed at being selected as a perch and seeing him so happy helped to disperse the dark tendrils of doubt in Thorin’s mind.

“So, you’re a butterfly-whisperer as well,” he said, coming to Bilbo’s side.

“We have the Aega morpho and the Peleides blue morpho,” Bilbo said, convincing one of the larger butterflies to wander onto his finger. “Would you like to hold this curious fellow?”

Thorin hesitated for a moment, but figured if he could keep his cool with a macaw, he could probably manage a butterfly. He slowly lifted his finger until it was parallel to Bilbo’s, his throat feeling dry again.

“Come on, off you go,” Bilbo prompted, when the butterfly seemed reluctant to move. He gave his finger a wiggle. “Go and say ‘hello’ to Thorin: he’s very nice, you’ll like him.”

The butterfly padded across onto Thorin’s finger, though he could barely feel a difference as the little black feet crept over the back of his hand. It was as if the butterfly was crafted from delicate tissue paper and the slightest breeze would carry it off.

“Which species is this?” Thorin asked, finding himself quite taken with the electric blue colouring of the butterfly’s wings.

“That’s an Aega morpho,” Bilbo replied. “Named after the daughter of Helios in Greek mythology.”

“I can’t believe how much you know about birds and butterflies and flowers,” Thorin murmured, watching Bilbo over the wings of the Aega morpho.

“I will admit that I downloaded the species catalogue from the Botanical Gardens’ website… I didn’t think I’d have time to read it before Saturday.”

“Well, you’ve been an excellent tour guide.”

The sunlight caught Bilbo’s hair, making it glitter, and the butterfly still perched on one curl shone like a sapphire. “I’m glad to have been of service.”

After making their way through the butterfly dome, they spent some time in the information hub, listening to a talk about current conservation efforts and recent arrivals in the tropical exhibits. They then decided to exit the domes and take a breather by the Gardens’ network of ponds. There was a wooden bench which sat beneath an ivy-covered arbour, looking out onto the largest pond. Crowds of pale pink waterlilies bobbed on the gentle ripples, just like in Monet’s paintings. Thorin’s parents had had a framed copy of _Le Bassin Aux Nymphéas_ over the fireplace in their living room.

They settled on the bench, Thorin trying to resist the urge to sit as close to Bilbo as possible, and both took a moment to take in the view of the ponds.

“Thank you for today,” Bilbo said softly, turning to look at Thorin with such endearing sincerity in his expression.

Thorin slid his hand a little closer to Bilbo’s on the bench between them. “You don’t need to thank me… I’ve had a really nice time.”

“Despite an overzealous bird-of-paradise?” Bilbo’s little finger slowly slid over his.

“I… I didn’t mind him so much,” Thorin whispered, a lump growing in his throat.

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself,” Bilbo said, as they both leaned in a little closer. “It really has been rather wonderful.”

Thorin’s heart was pumping inside his chest as he dared to brush a fingertip over Bilbo’s. What happened next seemed to occur without time for forethought or panic, almost like an out-of-body experience, and Thorin found himself lifting his free hand to cup Bilbo’s cheek, thumb brushing over the faint line that mapped the meeting of skin plates, before guiding Bilbo’s lips to his.

Thorin had never kissed an android before – not that he had kissed many humans either – but the experience of kissing Bilbo was blissfully surreal. He pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth first, before moving to kiss him properly. Bilbo’s lips were smooth, but not unpleasantly so, and they were soft, far softer than Thorin had ever imagined. His eyes fluttered closed as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, their noses rubbing together. Thorin’s other hand travelled up Bilbo’s arm to his face so that he could cradle both his cheeks and push his fingertips into his curls.

And that was when a baby started crying.

Thorin and Bilbo jumped apart to find the android couple standing by the pond, both wearing identical expressions of amusement.

“Sorry!” the mother called. “We’ll, er, go and find somewhere else to sit.”

They disappeared off round the pond and Thorin licked his tingling lips, feeling quite short of breath. He turned to Bilbo and flexed his trembling fingers. “Was… was that okay? I’m sorry I didn’t –”

“Yes, Thorin, that was okay,” Bilbo said, and he was beaming.

They both let out a laugh, whether out of disbelief or joy, before resorting to simply smirking at each other. The next sound to interrupt them was Thorin’s stomach, which gave a definite rumble.

“Oh, we’ve completely missed lunch!” Bilbo cried, suddenly looking very remorseful.

“It’s, er, it’s fine,” Thorin replied, glaring down at his belly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Now there’ll be none of that,” Bilbo said, with definite scolding. “Let’s get you to the café.”

The android stood up from the bench and when Thorin didn’t immediately follow suit, he held out his hand. “Am I going to have to drag you there?”

“Maybe,” Thorin grinned, but still took Bilbo’s hand.

Bilbo pulled him up from the bench with a _tsk_ and then they set off, walking hand in hand round the waterlily pond, towards the distant squawks of parrots and the faint flutter of wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The forever-wonderful Shipsicle has drawn a beautiful piece of cover art for Chapter 3 which can now be found heading the chapter. Please do go and take a look, and don’t forget to show Ship lots of love over on her tumblr: shipsicle.tumblr.com!
> 
> So school’s out for summer and I’m off to Italy, therefore the next update may be slightly delayed, but rest assured that I will return and there are still many more sci-fi shenanigans left in store! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I’ve returned safely from my Italian travels, so I think it’s about time we paid another visit to the 22nd Century…

“I still don’t understand how you’ve managed to get this many scratches on the underside!”

Thorin slowly slid the mechanic’s creeper a little further under Ponto’s dull silver belly and traced an oil-splattered finger over a particularly large, crescent-shaped dint by one of his wheels. “Country roads,” he replied, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Oh, aye? And what were you doing out on the country roads?”

Although he couldn’t see his cousin, Thorin could picture Dwalin’s bushy brows knitting together above his nose. He was surprised, what with all the suspicion in Dwalin’s voice, that his ankles weren’t suddenly being grabbed as he was dragged out from underneath Ponto so he could meet those knitted brows face to face.

“Clients,” Thorin said simply. He picked a small chunk of gravel out of the crossmember and dropped it to the floor by his shoulder.

Dwalin’s feet went stomping round to Ponto’s bonnet. “And what kind of android lives out in the arse end of beyond?”

Thorin couldn’t help but smile to himself as he thought of Bilbo. What kind indeed? Dwalin gave a loud harrumph: there was a reason he had chosen to be a mechanic and not a mechatronic. He always said he liked the fact that his ‘clients’ _couldn’t_ answer back.

“I could give him a coat of Repellex? That should stop the gravel from sticking.”

“Not happening,” Thorin answered, giving Ponto’s belly a reassuring pat. “Ponto’s aluminium-steel blend can’t handle Repellex – it’ll peel right off.”

Dwalin gave a distinct growl followed by some fairly furious muttering. He was one of the few people who tolerated Thorin’s doe-eyed love for the car, but even Dwalin’s patience had a limit. Footsteps thudded off to the right, followed by the clanking and jangling of someone rooting through a toolbox. Thorin only hoped he wasn’t searching for the perfect spanner to throw at him once he slid the creeper out and no longer had Ponto as a shield.

Thorin was beginning to examine a small, circular scratch by the front chassis rail when Dwalin gave his ankle a kick.

“Yer tablet’s ringing.”

“If it’s Dis, you can tell her to sod off – we’ve already spoken twice today.” Thorin continued to poke at the scratch, unconcerned.

“It’s not Dis. Screen’s come up with some bloke called ‘Bilbo Baggins’.”

Thorin almost smacked his forehead into the chassis rail. Letting out a string of obscenities, he slid out from under Ponto like he was launching himself into space. Staggering up from the creeper, his eyes jumped straight to his tablet, which was vibrating on the bench by the door… and sure enough, the words ‘Bilbo Baggins calling…’ had filled the bright screen.

Turning to the grimy mirror by Dwalin’s tool box, Thorin let out a strangled sound. He was in an old grey jumpsuit which was covered in stains and splatters and then, in an attempt to sort out his spikes of dark hair, he ended up smearing black oil over his cheek and forehead.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dwalin asked, raising an eyebrow in concern. “Is Baggins yer new boss or something?”

“No,” Thorin said quickly, stumbling over to his tablet. Picking it up, he decided the ‘voice call only’ option would probably be best. Heart thudding in his ears like a drumroll, he tapped at the screen and accepted the call. “Hello, Bilbo…”

“Thorin! I… I can’t see you…?”

“Yeah, sorry… Is it okay if we voice call?” Thorin didn’t like the edge in his voice and he told himself to breathe.

“Thorin, are you gonna tell me or what?” Dwalin said, both brows raised at the tablet.

“Oh…” Bilbo sounded strange. “Oh, you’re with someone… Sorry, I should go…”

Thorin’s eyes widened in horror as he realised what Bilbo thought was going on. “No!” he half-shouted, fingers curling around the tablet. “No, no, no… Dwalin’s my cousin, we’re just at his shop doing some repairs on Ponto…”

Wanting to completely allay all of Bilbo’s fears, Thorin swallowed his pride and hit the ‘video’ icon. The android appeared instantly, sitting at his kitchen table, and Thorin only just caught the expression in his green-blue eyes shift from hurt to absolute delight. His stomach gave a giddy jolt.

“I, er, I’m sorry I look a mess,” he mumbled, gesturing to his jumpsuit with one hand.

“Not at all,” Bilbo smiled, a glitter of mischief appearing. “I had no idea a grey jumpsuit could look so –  Oh, um, hello!”

Bilbo’s gaze had jumped to something behind Thorin’s shoulder. He turned and choked on a breath. Dwalin was looming behind him like some kind of oil-and-grease demon.

“Evenin’” Dwalin said carefully.

“Bilbo, this is my cousin, Dwalin – he doesn’t need to be here.” Thorin glared at Dwalin and distinctly mouthed ‘bugger off’.

Dwalin only returned a smug smirk. “Bilbo, I don’t suppose you live down a country road, do you?”

“Er, yes,” Bilbo replied, smiling a little nervously. “I suppose I do.”

“Thought so.”       

“ _Dwalin_ ,” Thorin said, through gritted teeth.

“Alright, alright.” Dwalin held his hands up in surrender. “I’m goin’”.

Thorin watched his cousin back away and disappear into the tiny kitchenette at the back of the garage. “Sorry about that,” he whispered. Maybe he would be the one throwing the spanners. “How, er, how are you?”

“I’m very well, thank you,” Bilbo said, the delight back in his expression. “I was just wondering if you might be free this Saturday evening?”

Thorin had been planning on challenging Dwalin to an electronic darts rematch, but it seemed he’d just received a better offer. “I am, yes.” His stomach was squirming again.

“Excellent! Now how would you feel about having dinner at Bag End?”

“Dinner…?” Thorin asked, certain he must have misheard.

“Yes, I know you would be the only one eating, but I would very much like the opportunity to cook for you… It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to cook for anyone.”

“You’d like to cook for me?” Thorin murmured, his chest expanding and growing tighter at the same time.

“If you’ll let me.” Bilbo sounded almost shy. “I know it’s quite odd, but I do actually enjoy cooking.”

Thorin felt a little colour creep into his cheeks. There was an ever growing list of things that other people might find ‘quite odd’ about Bilbo, but for Thorin it only made the android all the more fascinating, all the more endearing. “I’d… I’d really like that.”

Bilbo was suddenly beaming up at him from the screen. “Brilliant! Is there anything you don’t eat?”

“Erm…” Thorin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been asked that question: usually he just ate whatever was put in front of him. “I’m not really a fan of oranges.”

“No oranges, got it! Are you allergic to anything?”

“Penicillin.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Well, I’m not exactly in the habit of cooking with antibiotics.”

Colour flooded Thorin’s face at the mistake. “Sorry, force of habit…”

“That’s quite alright, I understand… Shall we say seven on Saturday?”

“Okay. Do you need me to bring anything?”

“No, no, just your wonderful self!”

“Seven on Saturday then… I, er, I’m looking forward to it.”

“As am I.” Bilbo actually winked at him and Thorin thought his heart might stop. “See you soon, Thorin!”

“See you soon, Bilbo…”

The screen went blank and Thorin exhaled a shuddering breath. His face was still feeling uncomfortably warm and his heart was pounding inside his chest.

“Reet bloody ray of sunshine, that one.”

Thorin spun around to find Dwalin was standing behind him again. He gave his cousin a shove as he moved back to Ponto.

“Also explains it.”

“Explains what, Dwalin?” Thorin sighed, inspecting Ponto’s wingmirror.

“Why you’ve been less of a miserable git recently.”

Dwalin was smirking again and Thorin turned to look for a spanner.

 

…

 

Thorin’s eyes flickered to the glowing green numbers on his tablet. 6:47pm: he was probably going to be a few minutes unfashionably early, but at least that would mean he wasn’t going to be keeping Bilbo waiting. He knew the android had told him not to bring anything, but Thorin hadn’t felt comfortable showing up to their little dinner party empty-handed. The usual gifts – a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates – were hardly appropriate, and so he had wracked his brain to come up with something suitable. It wasn’t until he was watering his marigolds that he realised there was an avenue he’d yet to explore when searching for a gift for a green-fingered botanist.

At first, Thorin figured he’d cracked the code when he walked into the florists on Alexander Street, feeling quite proud of himself and just a little giddy. It was only then that it dawned on him just how many different flowers there were, all with their own meanings and connotations, depending on the colour, the arrangement and so forth. The two young sales assistants had been more than willing to help him out and it was after much mumbling and blushing from Thorin, they decided that maybe something simple would do the trick.

The bouquet of dark red roses was beautiful, but Thorin, not quite satisfied with his recent attempts at flirting, swore to himself that he would definitely be upping the ante. Inspired by a story his mother and father always used to tell their children, Thorin had eleven of the twelve roses delivered to Bag End on the Saturday morning. The twelfth red rose was now sitting in Ponto’s passenger seat. Thorin smiled over at it as he came to a stop by Bilbo’s gate.

Sliding out of the car, he straightened up and ran flattened palms over his light blue shirt, smoothing it down. Choosing what to wear for the occasion had been another nightmare – and his family had been no help whatsoever, with suggestions ranging from a tuxedo to his grey mechanics jumpsuit to very little at all – but with a few tips from some dating advice websites that Thorin had promptly cleared from his browser history, he had settled on the light blue shirt and navy jeans.

Thorin slipped through the wooden gate and made his way up the stone steps, holding the rose behind his back. The sun was just beginning to set and it gave the front garden a rather enchanting glow. It was strange to think that only a month ago he had been climbing these same steps, about to meet Bilbo for the first time. Inhaling deeply through his nose, Thorin pressed the call button on the silver keypad by the green door. The door rolled away so quickly that Thorin was concerned Bilbo had literally been waiting for him just behind it.

“Thorin! You’re right on time!” Bilbo greeted him, and Thorin still marvelled at how the android made it sound like he was the most important person in the world.

“Hello, Bilbo,” Thorin said quietly, fingers flexing around the thin stem of the rose.

Before he could begin agonising about whether to go for a pat on the shoulder, Bilbo leaned up and gently pecked a kiss to his cheek.

“Come in, come in, everything’s almost ready!”

The android hurried off and Thorin followed him, knowing full well that his mouth was hanging open and his right cheek was burning. Bilbo led them to the kitchen and Thorin stopped to marvel at the transformation. The table was covered with a beautiful silk cloth and set for one with shining cutlery. There were two taper candles, already lit, their little orange flames flickering above the dark red wax. And there, in a large crystal vase, were the eleven red roses Thorin had sent earlier that day.

“You got my flowers.”

“I did,” Bilbo said, following his gaze. “A beautiful gesture, Thorin, Thank you… Although I hope you don’t mind me saying that the florist better not have short-changed you: eleven is a bit of an unorthodox number for roses…”

“I know,” Thorin said softly. “This is for you.”

He brought the single rose from behind his back and held it out to Bilbo. The android looked genuinely stunned for a moment, then an achingly affectionate smile appeared.

“Thorin, you old romantic.”            

Bilbo let Thorin press the rose into his hands and he carefully wrapped his fingers around the stem, keeping his palm over Bilbo’s knuckles for a moment. Their eyes met as they leaned into each other, the sweet scent of the rose floated up between them.

“I, er, I’m just going to pop this in the vase with the rest.”

Thorin watched Bilbo move over to the table and realised that he’d actually succeeded in flustering him. Bilbo couldn’t blush the way a human could, but still his movements were sufficiently distracted for Thorin to know that he had certainly upped his game since their visit to the Botanical Gardens last week.

“Now, please will you take a seat?” Bilbo gestured to the only set place at the table.

Thorin did as he was asked as Bilbo returned to the open plan kitchen. “It smells delicious.”

Now that the matter of the roses was taken care of, Thorin could appreciate the truly mouth-watering smells that were drifting over from the variously bubbling pots and pans.

“I do hope it tastes alright,” Bilbo smiled through the fumes. “Would you like some wine?”

“Oh…” Thorin hadn’t expected to be drinking, but Bilbo appeared to be holding a very good bottle of wine. “Go on then.”

Bilbo returned to the table. “You’re sure?”

Thorin nodded. “I have a detox kit in Ponto’s boot.”

Detox kits – only to be used when the driver had imbibed a maximum of five units – had been a legal requirement for decades and although sobering up in under a minute was never pleasant, it was always far better than the alternative.

“It’s a Cabernet Sauvignon, from a little vineyard on the east coast of New Zealand,” Bilbo explained. “I have it in for whenever Gandalf decides to grace me with his presence.”

“And he won’t mind?” Thorin asked, eyes moving over the intricate gold patterns of the bottle’s label.

“Well, if he does, he can speak to me about it,” Bilbo laughed, pouring Thorin a glass.

The android set the bottle down in the middle of the table and took a seat opposite Thorin, clearly awaiting a verdict.

“I’m, er, hardly a connoisseur,” Thorin admitted, swilling the dark red wine in the glass a little.

“That’s alright, as long as it’s drinkable.”

Thorin took a few sips, surprised by the fruitiness of the bouquet. “It’s… it’s very good.”

Bilbo smiled, his green-blue eyes appearing darker in the candlelight, and Thorin couldn’t help the twist he felt inside his chest.

“Don’t, Thorin, please.”

Thorin’s throat tightened. “What…?”              

“I made my peace with not being able to eat and drink a very long time ago,” Bilbo replied quietly. “And you’re doing me a favour tonight by offering to taste my cooking, so please don’t torture yourself on my account.”

Thorin slowly set down his glass. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d responded to an android who had tried eating or drinking for the first time and made a complete mess of their inner circuits. Those were the call-outs he hated the most: the ones where androids ended up hurting themselves trying to emulate human behaviour. But he reminded himself that Bilbo wasn’t one of those androids and he had gone through so much trouble to prepare a meal for him. He would never forgive himself if he ruined it.

“Okay, I won’t, I promise,” Thorin said, offering a smile of reassurance.

Bilbo reached forward and briefly took Thorin’s hands in his before rising from the table. “Now, tonight’s menu has a bit of a French flavour to it… I learnt how to cook from a friend in Paris.”

“You’ve been to Paris?” Thorin asked, immediately regretting his note of shock. Androids tended to be ‘home birds’ and weren’t generally fond of travelling, especially when the Sentience Laws differed from country to country.

“Yes, I lived in France for six months,” Bilbo replied. “I was a witness for the Traité des Êtres Sensibles.”

Thorin knew he was staring, but he couldn’t quite take his eyes off Bilbo. He was right to call the android the most interesting person he’d ever met.

“Now, it’s French onion soup with croutons au gratin to start,” Bilbo called over from the kitchen.

Thorin watched as Bilbo ladled steaming soup into a deep white bowl, then the dish was hidden from view as he added the finishing touches. A moment later, Bilbo was at his side, setting the bowl down in front of him.

“Bon appétit,” he said, with a wink, before taking a seat opposite Thorin again.

“This looks amazing…” Thorin whispered, picking up his spoon. The rich, fragrant smell of the onions threaded up into his nose and the sight of the crumbly cheese slowly melting across the top of the bowl made his mouth water. It was with slow reverence that Thorin dipped his spoon down into the bowl and then brought it to his lips. “Wow… It’s delicious, Bilbo.”

Bilbo’s face instantly lit up and he looked almost beside himself with happiness. “Really? Oh, I’m so glad you think so!”

In the end, Thorin only managed to get through half the enormous bowl before he decided it was best not to ruin his appetite. Bilbo didn’t seem at all offended as he whisked the dish away and it wasn’t long before he returned with the main course: boeuf bourguignon with garlic and rosemary roasted potatoes. Thorin had never eaten a stew that melted in the mouth the same way and there were moments where he was completely absorbed in the meal, but when he returned to the present moment, Bilbo only seemed thrilled at his responses to his cooking.

“Is the rosemary from your garden?” Thorin asked, pushing his fork into a piece of potato.

“Of course,” Bilbo grinned. “I’m told it gives even the plainest dishes a real kick of flavour.”

“The potatoes are amazing,” Thorin commented, thinking he needed to find a better word to describe Bilbo’s cooking.

Not for the first time that evening Thorin’s eyes fell on the empty expanse of white tablecloth in front of Bilbo. He carefully set down his fork.

“Would it make you feel better if I sipped some oil?” Bilbo said gently.

“Sorry,” Thorin mumbled, feeling guilty at being caught when he’d promised Bilbo he wouldn’t torture himself. “You don’t have to…”

“I picked up a few new synthetic scents when I last went to the A.C.O.R.N. Outlet and I do quite want to try the peppermint.”

Bilbo rose from the table and went to the kitchen. He collected a glass and a bottle of dark blue oil from a cupboard. It was a recent development, but an android technician had discovered that the liquid A.C.O.R.N. used beneath synthetic casings could be safely consumed by androids without damaging any internal circuitry. As androids didn’t have a stomach to speak of, the oil simply went straight into a reserve tank before being filtered out into the rest of the body’s normal oil production.

“I suppose we should make a toast,” Bilbo said, with a small smile, as he returned to the table with his glass that did indeed hold a perfumed scent of peppermint.

Thorin picked up his wine glass. “What should we toast to?”

“To Hamfast Gamgee and loose paving stones?”

“To Hamfast Gamgee and loose paving stones,” Thorin agreed, and they clinked their glasses together.

Unable to pace himself and think of dessert, Thorin cleaned his plate of boeuf bourguignon, which only made Bilbo clear the table with a spring in his step. After a pause, in which Bilbo poured himself more oil, Thorin found himself confronted with a ramekin of picture perfect crème brûlée. He tapped the hard, amber-coloured layer of sugar with his spoon. “Bilbo… Did you, um, blowtorch this yourself?”

“Oh, goodness, no,” Bilbo laughed. “There’s a setting in the top oven you can use for caramelisation.”

“Ah, right…” Thorin told himself he hadn’t picture Bilbo wielding a blowtorch anyway and that it hadn’t made the back of his neck feel hot.

As was to be expected, the crème brûlée was beautifully smooth and creamy, the layer of sugar having the perfect crisp bite. Thorin scraped his spoon around the ramekin to make sure he’d completely devoured the dessert. They finished with oil and camomile tea respectively and then Bilbo suggested that, as it was a cool, dry night, they go and sit out in the garden.

Thorin all but waddled through the back door to the elaborately carved wooden bench that sat a little way from the house. The garden was completely shrouded in darkness save for the light spilling across the grass from the kitchen window and the handful of glittering stars strewn across the sky. Bilbo joined him on the bench and they sat in companionable silence for a while, Thorin rubbing a hand over his full belly in satisfaction.

“Thank you for the meal, Bilbo,” he said finally. “It really was delicious.”

Bilbo smiled over at him, his face appearing a little paler in the moonlight, giving him an ethereal, almost other-worldly quality. “You’re more than welcome, Thorin… I suppose I should thank you for helping me celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” Thorin asked quietly.

The android looked slightly sheepish as he answered: “Yes… For all intents and purposes, today is actually my fiftieth birthday.”

Thorin’s eyes widened as he turned to Bilbo. “Your… your birthday?”

“I know it’s not the most accurate description, but I have tended to use 22nd September to mark the beginning of my sentience.”

Bilbo shifted on the bench, expression almost fearful, as if he expected Thorin to recoil in horror. However, Thorin looked mortified for a purely different reason.

“But I didn’t get you a present!”

His thoughts returned to the encyclopaedia that Mrs. Fairbairn was holding for him at her Book Emporium in Arkendale… He wished he’d known, he would have returned to the little village market in a heartbeat.

“The roses and your lovely company are present enough,” Bilbo chuckled, sounding relieved.

Their hands had been side by side on the bench since they sat down, little fingers almost touching, and now Thorin slowly slid his hand over Bilbo’s. “Happy Birthday, Bilbo,” he said, unashamed by how terribly fond he sounded.

Bilbo slowly knitted their fingers together. “Thank you, Thorin.”

They both turned their gazes back to the sky for a moment. Thorin’s eyes searched the gloom, trying to trace the patterns in the twinkling pins of light, his thoughts wandering onto one of his earliest memories: curled up in his mother’s lap in her study, wrapped in the blanket his grandmother had made for him, dosing as she read to him from the notes she had made that day. He hadn’t understood most of the words, but her voice was soothing, and it was those nights where he always dreamed of bright bolts and wires and turning cogs. He turned back to Bilbo, unsure whether his question would be inappropriate.

“It’s okay, you can ask,” Bilbo said softly, rubbing his thumb over Thorin’s knuckles.

Thorin coughed to clear his throat. “Do you… remember being born?”

Bilbo turned back to the stars with a strange smile. “Yes, I suppose I do… They’re not complete memories. Mostly just light and sound… so much sound. And confusion too – about who I was, about _what_ I was… It was quite a lot of pressure in the beginning, discovering I was a New Age Adam.”

Thorin’s heart ached at Bilbo’s words, knowing his first few years of life must have terribly difficult. He was glad that the android had gone on to do so many ground-breaking things which had changed the world for the better.

“I dream about it, sometimes,” Bilbo murmured, voice distant. “The light and the sound… I hear Gandalf’s voice… and Drogo’s… I imagine it’s what reincarnation feels like.”

It was common knowledge that androids had been created quite by accident – a result of human curiosity. Consequently, there were still a lot of things that A.C.O.R.N. couldn’t explain: the fact that androids were able to dream whilst in ‘sleep mode’ was one of them.

“I dream about you too.”

Thorin turned to find Bilbo had slid closer to him on the bench so that their arms were almost touching. His synthetic curls were flickering with light from the kitchen window, his green-and-blue eyes were shining, and Thorin didn’t think he’d seen anything more beautiful.

“I hope they’re good dreams,” Thorin said, leaning a little closer.

“Always,” Bilbo replied, his lips parting slightly.

Thorin lifted a hand and hooked a finger under Bilbo’s chin, slowly bringing their mouths together. He closed his eyes and savoured the feeling of cool, smooth lips brushing against his own.

“Is this alright?” he breathed, words ghosting against Bilbo’s cheek.

“Yes,” came Bilbo’s hushed reply as he sought Thorin’s lips again.

Their kisses were more insistent this time, their mouths lingering longer against each other, lips slowly opening as their noses nudged together. It was with thumbs stroking along Bilbo’s jaw that Thorin first felt the android’s tongue teasing his own. It was a strange sensation, Bilbo’s tongue being cool and dry as he had no need for saliva or discernible taste buds, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Thorin let Bilbo lead, but eagerly followed his unspoken cues. His thumbs moved from Bilbo’s jaw, over his cheeks, following the lines between the plates of synthetic skin, he supposed in the same way one would read a palm.

After a few moments, Bilbo slowly pulled away. “You like these,” he said, sounding amused, as his fingertips traced the line by his nose.

“They feel nice,” Thorin replied, before he could think of a better way to phrase it.

Bilbo only grinned. “A little bit different to this…”

His fingers reached up and moved over Thorin’s beard, stroking through the short, dark hair, scratching slightly over his chin, and Thorin let out a low sound of approval, afraid he might start purring.

“This feels very nice,” Bilbo said, continuing to rub his fingers through Thorin’s beard. He then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his jaw, then another, and another.

With a definite hum, Thorin dipped his head so that their lips met again and they could resume kissing properly. He had just dared to touch his tongue against Bilbo’s top lip when a very loud and urgent beep had him jumping away, heart battering his ribcage.

“It’s fine!” Bilbo said quickly, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “I’m fine!”

If Thorin had been anything other than a mechatronic, he might have let it go, but Bilbo’s luck had just run out. “Your power’s getting low, you need to recharge,” Thorin said gently, taking Bilbo’s hand. The android must have exhausted himself with all the preparations for the meal.

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo mumbled, eyes downcast.

“You don’t need to apologise.” Thorin kissed Bilbo’s forehead, before slipping an arm around his shoulders. “Now let’s get you back inside.”

Bilbo was certainly capable of making it back to the kitchen, but Thorin was glad the android let him keep a protective arm around his waist, holding him close to his side. Bilbo rested his head against Thorin’s shoulder as they walked, and Thorin didn’t think he had ever in his life passed a more perfect evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the philosophy and the food porn! :) 
> 
> The idea that androids can imbibe ‘oil’ was inspired by a fic called ‘Sentience’ by VincentMeoblinn. The eleven red roses plus one was inspired by my dad, who did actually send my mum eleven plus one roses for Valentine’s Day – they’ve been married for twenty-seven years now and are the reason this little cynic might still believe in true love! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! A shorter chapter this time, but thanks to some much-needed time off in the sun, posted ahead of schedule :)

Thorin ran his finger along the light blue ribbon, tracing the neatly folded corners of the wrapping paper. He’d travelled to Arkendale on Monday morning, before his first call of the day, and there was Miss Fairbairn waiting for him. Bilbo didn’t have a stall on Mondays, so there was no chance of him catching Thorin purchasing his belated birthday present. True to her word, Miss Fairbairn had saved the illustrated encyclopaedia and let Thorin have it for three-hundred pounds. He’d already negotiated his overtime with the higher ups and he came away from the market positively giddy.

After three failed attempts at wrapping, Thorin figured he might as well go the whole nine yards and get the book professionally packaged. The sales assistant had shown him some beautifully marbled blue and green paper – that was very reminiscent of flawed code – and then the wrapping had been finished off with an elaborate bow. Thorin left the shop feeling very pleased with himself.

It was now Tuesday evening, and he knew he couldn’t put off making the video call any longer. After straightening up the mess of misshaped cushions, Thorin sat down the sofa with his tablet in his lap. He’d opted for the living room today, deciding he didn’t want Bilbo to think he was actually living in squalor and only a small part of his kitchen was clean. His eyes moved to the green-and-blue present on the low coffee table and lingered there for a moment, before he took a deep breath and hit ‘call’.

The dialling screen appeared and his tablet buzzed with familiar chimes. Thorin’s heart bumped against his ribs and the longer the chimes went on, the more his stomach became a scrunched, squirming ball.

He only let out a breath when the ringing stopped, but then an automated voice spoke instead: “We’re sorry, but the user you are trying to contact is unavailable. Please leave your message after the tone.”

Thorin rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, the disappointment opening a cavern inside his chest. “Bilbo… It’s, er, it’s Thorin… I was just wondering if you’re free on Thursday evening…? I, um, thought you might like to go to the ‘Open Mic Night’ at The Bolts… with me… There’ll be android performers too and, well, I’ve been to a few before and they were good… So, I guess, just let me know when you get this message… and thanks again for dinner on Saturday… Bye…”

Thorin collapsed back into the cushions with a groan, letting the tablet slip onto the sofa at his side. He hoped Bilbo didn’t save the recording of that message to use for blackmail purposes at a later date. He wasn’t sure what it was, but speaking to Bilbo in between seeing each other always made him so incredibly nervous… He supposed it was because he cared what the android thought of him; he cared more about Bilbo’s opinion than anyone else’s, even Dis’. He couldn’t remember the last time that had been the case.

There was a needling ache spreading out between his ribs. Thorin tried to push it away, to be reasonable: Bilbo was allowed to have a social life and not be able to answer his every beck and call. Maybe it was just because they hadn’t spoken since Saturday and he simply missed hearing Bilbo’s voice. That thought was far too foreign and sentimental for Thorin’s liking, but the more he attempted to drive it from his mind, the more its fingers curled around the edges of his consciousness, refusing to be banished.

Thorin sat, slumped on the sofa for a very long time, twitching whenever he heard anything that could possibly be the buzz of his tablet, eyes jumping to the screen only to be disappointed. The room had been dark for some time before he finally heaved himself from the nest of cushions and took himself upstairs to bed.

 

…

 

Thorin had no idea how the A.C.O.R.N. administration team sat in these awful chairs for hours on end every day. He knew they’d been designed to prevent poor posture and subsequent health problems, but it still felt like he was being subjected to some kind of Medieval torture device. He shifted against the lumpy cushioning again and tried to focus on the processing screen. As it was nearing the end of the month, Thorin had to put in some office hours to file all his call-out reports. It was his least favourite part of being a mechatronic, but today he was finding the task particularly agonising.

Bilbo had never returned his call. He’d tried his best to resist contacting him again on Wednesday, but then panic had got the best of him and he’d left another message before turning in for the night. Now Thursday afternoon found him sitting at a desk in A.C.O.R.N. Head Office having not heard from Bilbo for five days.

He knew there was probably a logical explanation for the android’s silence, but as the week dragged on, Thorin found his imagination was growing ever more fantastical, and ever more morbid. His security clearance meant he could access Bilbo’s basic information stored on their system and also read the report he’d filed for the emergency call-out when they’d first met. However, he had no way of knowing whether Bilbo had contacted A.C.O.R.N. that week, whether he’d been injured or had any sort of malfunction which might have left him unable to return Thorin’s calls.

Downing a mouthful of cold, stale coffee, he set the mug back on the desk with more force than was strictly necessary and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t slept very well last night, nor the night before. His dreams had been plagued with half-there visions of Bilbo covered in sticky, dark blue oil, his twisted circuits ripped and exposed, sparking with the last glimmers of life. He’d woken in a cold sweat at four that morning and been unable to settle back to sleep.

Thorin’s eyes moved to the blank screen of his tablet sitting beside the processing keypad. Dis had rung yesterday and for a moment, his heart had leapt, but then seeing his sister’s name appear had led to a very grumpy and clipped call. He knew he couldn’t carry on like this, so it seemed it might be time to call in a favour.

The Emergency Call-Centre was on the fifteenth floor and Thorin was glad he didn’t run into anyone he knew on his way there. None of the operators looked up when the glass doors slid open to admit him, most speaking into their headsets and busy dealing with dispatches. Bofur was sitting in a cubicle in the back corner, tapping at his screen, and fortunately he didn’t appear to be taking a call. Thorin made his way over to the desk, his legs feeling as if they might fold under him.

“Afternoon, Bofur,” he said, trying to sound casual, his cough somewhat ruining the effect.

Bofur swivelled around in his chair with a grin. “Well, what do we have here? A mechatronic on the fifteenth floor! Best watch yourself, you might get altitude sickness.”

Thorin managed a small smile. “Bofur… I’m really sorry to ask, but I need a favour.”

“Of course, how many bodies are we burying?” the operator replied, with a wink.

‘Probably just mine’ Thorin thought sombrely. He turned to scan the room, checking that the other operators were still immersed in their work. “I… I’m worried about a client. They were supposed to contact me for, er, for a follow-up appointment and I haven’t heard from them… I can’t access their repair files and, well, I was just wondering if they’ve contacted A.C.O.R.N. this week? If they’ve had any call-outs?”

“And you need my security clearance?” Bofur asked, with a knowing smile.

Thorin could feel his face growing hot. “If that’s alright?”

“Go on then,” Bofur chuckled. “Only ‘cause you look like you haven’t slept since last year.”

He turned to his screen and tapped in the access codes to bring up A.C.O.R.N.’s directory.

“What name am I looking for?”

“B-Bilbo Baggins.” Bilbo’s name got caught in Thorin’s throat and sent a spike of pain flashing between his ribs.

Bofur started typing the name in. “And this wouldn’t happen to be a certain curly-haired android with bright blue eyes, would it?”

“They’re green and blue,” Thorin corrected, without thinking, then immediately snapped his lips into a thin line.

“Thought so,” Bofur said quietly. “And you’re allowed to care, Thorin, it’s not a crime.”

Thorin had no response to that: he simply kept his eyes focused on the screen as the data trickled in, heart climbing up into his throat.

“Hmmm… Nope, no call-outs this week,” Bofur declared, clicking through the list. “Last time he contacted A.C.O.R.N. was the call you responded to.”

“Okay,” Thorin whispered, feeling sick. He wasn’t sure how to take this information. He was relieved that Bilbo hadn’t been injured… But then why wasn’t he returning his calls? Had something else happened?

“Want me to try giving him a call?” Bofur asked gently, and Thorin tried not to notice the pity in his expression.

He almost dismissed the offer, but then the ache in his chest intervened. “Please.”

“Right…” Bofur adjusted the headset beneath his hat and dialled Bilbo’s number.

The call screen appeared and Thorin sucked in a breath. The A.C.O.R.N. logo rotated back and forth as the ringing went on, and on, and on… and then:

_“We’re sorry, but the user you are trying to contact is unavailable. Please leave your message after the tone.”_

Bofur looked up, the question in his expression, but Thorin shook his head: there was no point leaving another message.

Bofur clicked off the call. “Sorry, Thorin… There anything else I can do?”

“No… No, it’s okay… Thank you for trying,” Thorin murmured, feeling his eyes begin to prickle.

“No problem,” Bofur said, reaching up to pat Thorin’s arm. “I hope you hear back from him soon.”

Thorin gave a grunt of acknowledgement. He was just turning away when Bofur caught his arm.

“And if you don’t, Thorin… I just want you to know that he’s an idiot.”

“Thanks, Bofur,” Thorin replied, still feeling that he was going to turn out to be the idiot in this situation. “I hope the rest of your shift’s a quiet one.”

And with that, Thorin left the Call-Centre, knowing it wasn’t the altitude that was making him feel sick to his stomach.

 

…

 

For the second time in a few weeks, Thorin found himself having a stand-off with the slim silver signpost that was beckoning him towards Bag End.

He’d tried to talk himself out of it. It was Friday afternoon and Bagshot Row was well out of the way of his last call-out of the week, but still Thorin had found himself following the winding country roads: Theseus searching for the Minotaur.

Passing Thursday evening without word from Bilbo had led to him leaving a rather embarrassing and rather desperate message, begging the android just to let him know if he was okay. Thorin had no other contact numbers for Bilbo, no one else he could call instead to discover the reason behind his apparent disappearance. He thought about heading up to the market at Arkendale, but decided if he was going to go looking for Bilbo, then Bag End would be a better place to start.

Pushing his foot down on the pedal, Thorin rolled his van onwards down the road, heartbeat echoing in his ears as he tightened his fingers around the steering wheel. He’d spent the past three days trying to figure out what could have gone so very wrong. Saturday evening had been wonderful and Bilbo had seemed happy… He had never given Thorin any indication that he was going to cut contact. But then again, Thorin had never been very good at reading people. Maybe Bilbo had been telling him all along, maybe he should have expected this after all.

Thorin’s eyes slipped to his left, to the green-and-blue parcel that was sitting in the passenger seat. His chest felt unbearably tight again. If Bilbo wanted them to stop seeing each other, he would respect his wishes… But the thought of losing Bilbo from his life seemed to be manifesting itself as physical pain. He had never felt like this about anyone before and he was struggling not to hate himself for falling so very hard and so very quickly.

Bagshot Row was quiet as Thorin slowed in his approach to Bag End. The sun was catching on something at the top of the hill, sending flashes into Thorin’s eyes, but it wasn’t until he was pulling up beside Bilbo’s gate that he discovered an old Mercedes Mearas appeared to have beaten him to it. The sleek silver car was parked by the grassy slope, its owner nowhere to be seen.

Feeling his fingers begin to tremble, Thorin stepped down from his van and went to collect Bilbo’s present from the passenger seat. He pushed open the gate with caution, definitely feeling like he was trespassing, but willing to face the consequences. It was with a steadily growing knot in his stomach that he ascended the stone steps to the round green door, gaze flitting to a certain recently-cemented paving stone. Nothing looked out of the ordinary: there was nothing to indicate that Bilbo was anything but perfectly fine.

Thorin arrived at the door and took a moment to collect himself. His eyes were stinging again, but he rubbed at them with the back of his hand before daring to hit the call button on the silver keypad.

Barely daring to breathe, Thorin waited. The silence was stretching itself out to torturous lengths, when suddenly footsteps could be heard coming from the other side of the door. Thorin straightened up, holding the present out in front of him.

The green door rolled open and Thorin froze.

It wasn’t Bilbo. An old, grey-suited man with silver hair and a cropped beard was studying him with a strange look in his pale blue eyes.

“You must be Thorin.”

“Yes,” Thorin replied, wondering why the man appeared so familiar…

“I am Gandalf Grey,” the man said softly. “I think you’d better come inside.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Magic, back at it again with your angsty plot twists!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Calls out of my window to the mob gathered below* Hey guys, it’s now time for you to return your torches and pitchforks as I present this story’s penultimate chapter. I realise this might come as a bit of a shock, but this fic was never intended to be very long – so eight chapters it is! Now, let’s see what Gandalf, three-time winner of the North of England’s Meddler of the Year Award, has to say for himself…

Thorin slowly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fingers tightening around the green-and-blue wrapped present in his hands. Now he understood why the silver-haired man seemed vaguely familiar: Gandalf Grey was the founder of Grey Robotics. He was now standing face-to-face with Bilbo’s creator, and it was rather an eerie feeling. Like meeting a more benevolent Dr. Frankenstein… or his ancient predecessor, Prometheus.

Eyes moving over Dr. Grey’s shoulder, Thorin tried to see if there was anyone else standing in the hallway. His ears strained to catch the sound of footsteps or the clink of china cups, but his efforts were met only with silence.

“Bilbo isn’t here, I’m afraid,” Dr. Grey said quietly, still watching him with an indecipherable expression.

A lump formed in Thorin’s throat. “Is… Is he alright?”

“I can tell you that he is safe,” the doctor replied. “But there are a few things I would like to discuss… If you would be so kind as to join me for a spot of tea?”

Thorin had never felt less like having a cup of tea in his life, but he needed answers and he hoped Dr. Grey was going to be the one to provide them.

“Okay,” he murmured, before allowing himself to be guided through the round green door.

He followed Dr. Grey along the winding, wooden-panelled corridor, his heart thumping, eyes darting left and right, knowing that part of him was still searching for the Minotaur.

“Shall we take our tea in the library?” Dr. Grey had come to a stop and was gesturing into a familiar room, its walls bursting with more books than it seemed were left in the modern world.

Thorin hesitated. He couldn’t separate the library from the image of Bilbo, sitting in one of the leather armchairs across from him, smiling at something he’d said, green-and-blue eyes impossibly bright and full of life… But then he supposed he wasn’t going to be able to sit in any room in Bag End without connecting it to his memories of the missing android.

Giving in with a nod, Thorin shuffled into the room. He placed Bilbo’s gift on the coffee table and lowered himself into an armchair.

“Now I know Bilbo is quite the tea connoisseur, so I’m not sure I’ll be able to remember his cupboard’s full repertoire,” Dr. Grey said, from the doorway. “But is there anything in particular you have in mind?”

Thorin thought of the tea made with the mint from Bilbo’s garden, but then replied with a gruff: “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

“Splendid!” Dr. Grey disappeared off down the corridor and a few moments later a distant clattering could be heard coming from the kitchen.

Thorin’s hands came to rest on the arms of the chair, fingernails sinking into the soft, worn leather as his gaze slowly moved around the library. At first there seemed to be nothing out of place, no evidence of anything extraordinary, but then he started to notice that there were books missing from the shelves. Every so often the lines of beautifully-preserved volumes would be interrupted by a black hole, like a deep cavern in a mountain of rock. There didn’t seem to be any kind of pattern as to where the void fell, but wherever Bilbo was, he had apparently taken part of his library with him.

_“And yes, Gandalf is still very much alive: he likes to turn up here and cause trouble if he hasn’t heard from me in a while, meddler that he is…”_

Bilbo’s words returned to Thorin as he heard footsteps approaching from the corridor. His stomach twisted, a wave of nausea crashing over him, as more grim scenarios presented themselves. Was Bilbo in some kind of trouble? Was it his silence that had prompted a visit from his creator?

“Here we are.” Dr. Grey entered the room holding two glass mugs of dark tea. “It was a difficult decision, but I decided on Earl Grey.”

Thorin took his mug by its silver handle, trying not to appear surprised. He watched little droplets of condensation forming around the glass rim.

“Bilbo got his good china out for you, did he?” Dr. Grey asked, with an amused smile. “It’s a privilege reserved for very few – certainly not for me.”

Even though he had been surprised by the delicate white-and-blue china, it hadn’t occurred to Thorin that Bilbo only used it for entertaining certain guests. He felt sick again – if the android really had set him apart, then why hadn’t he been privy to the reasons behind his disappearance?

“So…” Dr. Grey set his mug down on the coffee table and steepled his fingers between his chin.

“Has Bilbo been hurt?” Thorin blurted out, unwilling to talk in the riddles he suspected the doctor was capable of. “A.C.O.R.N. has no record of there being any incidents, but –”

“Thorin, I promise you that no physical harm has come to Bilbo,” Dr. Grey replied, gently cutting across him.

Thorin’s relief was short-lived as the questions multiplied, his mind a hive of angry buzzing. “Then… what’s happened? Where is he…? Please, Dr. Grey, I just need to know…”

“Oh, do call me ‘Gandalf’, none of this ‘Dr. Grey’ nonsense.”

“Fine… _Gandalf_ , please tell me what’s going on,” Thorin said, through gritted teeth, before the niggling dread made him speak more softly: “Is it… me? Have I done something wrong?”

“No, my dear boy, you haven’t,” Gandalf said, leaning back in his armchair with a sigh. “Bilbo is, to put it simply, having an existential crisis.”

Thorin frowned: this wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. “I don’t understand…”

“And that’s understandable,” Gandalf murmured. “I suppose as you and I must, at some point, come to terms with the nature of our own mortality… Bilbo too has had to contend with the prospect of his own immortality.”

Thorin was slowly starting to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. He knew a lot of androids struggled to adjust to their place in the world, especially those who had lived through the law changes and all the protests and riots that came with them. In the past decade research and resources had been invested in android psychology and now there were multiple services available for those who were finding a life of sentience difficult to process. It pained Thorin to think of Bilbo going through such a crisis… but more than that, it hurt to know he hadn’t felt like he could open up to Thorin about it, that he couldn’t trust him, and that he didn’t want his help.

“Where is he?” Thorin whispered. “I… I’d like to see him.”

Gandalf pursed his lips. “I’m afraid Bilbo has asked me not to reveal where he is spending his respite.”

That sent a cold spike stabbing straight between Thorin’s ribs. Bilbo didn’t want to see him, had disappeared off to somewhere he knew he couldn’t be found. “Then it is my fault,” he said, trying to stop his voice from shaking. “I’ve caused this…”

Gandalf leaned forward and set his mug down the table. “Bilbo has always been quite different to any other android I’ve sent out into the world… From the very first moment he first looked up at me with that little spark in his eyes, I knew.”

The doctor’s tone was pensive, distant, and unmistakably fond. _“_ _They’re not complete memories. Mostly just light and sound… so much sound. And confusion too – about who I was, about_ _what_ _I was… It was quite a lot of pressure in the beginning, discovering I was a New Age Adam.”_ Thorin heard Bilbo’s words echoing around his mind… Maybe he had been trying to tell him all along.

“Bilbo’s first years were both a joy to behold and endlessly difficult… I’d never known curiosity like it, his hunger for knowledge, his desire to understand the world around him. However, I’ve also never known an android to feel anything as deeply as Bilbo does. Sometimes his emotions quite overwhelm him.”

“And that’s what’s happened?” Thorin asked, an ache spreading up from his stomach. He’d known too, from the very first moment he’d met Bilbo, that he was special.

“Bilbo cares for you greatly, Thorin,” Gandalf answered. “Something which scares him more than he is willing to admit.”

“Because I’m human?”

“Yes.”

Thorin sighed, rubbing a hand across his beard. “Has it happened before? This kind of crisis?”

“Once,” Gandalf said, after a pause. “But I don’t believe it’s my place to share that with you.”

“And is Bilbo planning on sharing it with me?” Thorin snapped, instantly regretting his tone. “Sorry… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s alright to feel hurt, Thorin,” Gandalf said calmly. “But please be patient, give Bilbo some time, and I shall do all I can to convince him to get in contact with you.”

Thorin drew in a deep breath, trying to slow his thundering heart. Waiting would be difficult, but at least he knew Bilbo was safe, at least he understood what had happened. “If… If you see him, please will you tell him I just want to help? And… that I’m thinking of him.”

Gandalf’s smile was a warm one as he replied: “I’ll tell him, I promise.”

Thorin’s hand moved to Bilbo’s book on the table in front of him, fingers trailing over the crisp paper. “And will you give him this? It’s his birthday present.”

“Of course, and what lovely wrapping!”

“I, er, may have got someone else to do that… But I did choose the paper,” Thorin said, wishing that then, of all moments, he couldn’t feel a blush creeping up beneath his beard.

“I thought so,” came Gandalf’s rather cryptic reply. “And take heart, Thorin: I find that lost things always have a way of returning to us… Now drink your tea, it’s getting cold.”

 

…

 

Thorin pushed another piece of chicken across his plate, prodding at it with his fork. He could feel his family’s eyes on him, watching him across the table, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. It had been five days since Bag End’s green door had rolled away to reveal Dr. Gandalf Grey, and Thorin had heard nothing from the doctor since… nor had he heard anything from Bilbo. Dis had driven to his house and refused to leave until he agreed to join them for dinner. She had made chicken and mushroom pie, Thorin’s favourite, using their grandmother’s ancient recipe. But he was unable to stomach it, instead spending the past half hour hacking at the flaky pastry crust and skewering the chicken as he manoeuvred it around his plate.

“I’ve got a few choice words for that android,” Dis said, breaking the silence as she set down a mug of hot chocolate in front of Kili with more force than was necessary.

Thorin looked up, expression sullen, tired. “It’s not his fault.”

Dis harrumphed in an uncanny imitation of their mother. “I understand that Bilbo needs some space at the moment, but not bothering to contact you at all, offering no explanation, just disappearing like this… It’s bad manners.”

Thorin dropped his fork onto his plate with a sigh and sat back in his chair. He really didn’t want to discuss Bilbo. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of the storm outside. October seemed to be wanting to make its presence known, extinguishing all nostalgic thoughts of summer with an autumnal downpour that slicked the slowly transforming leaves and created a bronzed blanket that clung to paving stones and window panes. The wind’s roar had died down to a much more haunting, eerie wail that made Thorin feel uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t describe. The house was an old one, four storeys and made of brick with wooden beams and window frames. For all his sister made fun of Ponto, she too refused to move to a more modern home and instead insisted on renovating. This meant, however, that when a storm came, the whole house creaked as wind wound its way through the cracks and rattled the roof slates, bellowing into the ancient chimney-pot just to hear its own voice echoing back from the fireplace.

Thorin grunted a ‘thank you’ as Dis collected his plate of destroyed chicken pie and returned it to the kitchen.

“You know, when Vic and I give each other the silent treatment, it’s because we don’t want to say anything we’ll regret later.”

Thorin looked across the table at Fili, wondering how this had all ended up with him getting dating advice from his seventeen-year-old nephew.

“Yeah, but last time Vic ignored you, it was for like three hours and then they text you saying sorry,” Kili said, not looking up from where he appeared to be customising some kind of bike lock. He produced a screwdriver from up his sleeve and began tinkering with one of the lock’s mechanisms. “And the time before that, you lasted fifty-two minutes before turning up at their house like a weirdo.”

“First of all, it’s creepy that you timed it, second of all, it wasn’t weird: Vic said it was, and I quote “the most romantic thing they’ve ever seen”.”

Kili rolled his eyes and retrieved a smaller screwdriver from the inside pocket of his hoodie.

“Kili Oakenshield, what have I told you about tools at the dinner table?” Dis reappeared from the kitchen, frowning down at her youngest son.

“No tools at the dinner table,” Kili replied, sounding unphased.

“Exactly.”

“Then why is Fili here?”

Fili almost snorted his hot chocolate up his nose. “Okay, that was a good one, Kee… I’m impressed!”

Thorin felt his lips twitch into a smirk. Kili seemed to be entering teenagerhood with surprising ease.

“Right, enough, clear off both of you, take your hot chocolate upstairs,” Dis said, making shooing gestures. “I need to speak to your uncle.”

Fili and Kili made groans of protest and Thorin wanted to join them: his stomach was sinking at the thought of now getting dating advice from his sister.

“Dis, I don’t –”

The electronic doorbell chime suddenly sounded from the hallway. Dis and Thorin exchanged a look of concern.

“Are you two expecting someone?” Dis asked, raising an eyebrow at her sons. “Vic? AJ?”

Fili and Kili shook their heads, both shrugging.

“Hmm…” Dis turned and disappeared down the hallway.

Thorin and his nephews stayed seated at the table, but no one spoke and Kili put down his tools as they listened for the door.

“Thorin!”

Dis’ voice was urgent, higher than usual, and Thorin leapt up from the chair, barrelling out of the living room, expecting to find an unwelcome guest… Instead, he skidded to a halt, eyes growing impossibly wide and heart pounding in his ears as he took in the sight of Bilbo Baggins standing on his sister’s doorstep, soaked from the storm outside. The android’s once golden curls were dark and limp, sticking to his forehead and neck. His blue jumper and trousers were similarly bedraggled, dripping water onto the welcome mat along with his soggy loafers. He looked like he’d been for a swim in the river on his way over.

“Jesus Christ, Dis, let him in!” Thorin rushed forward, moving past a stunned Dis to put a hand on Bilbo’s damp shoulder and guide him out of the rain. He gestured towards the living room.

“I… I am so sorry to just t-turn up out of the blue like this,” Bilbo said, voice shaking. “Bofur gave me the address… But if I’m imposing, I understand…”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Thorin replied. “And you’re not imposing: we’ve just finished dinner.”

Bilbo was yet to make eye contact as they both stepped into the living room. Fili and Kili were already out of their seats, heading for the hallway, but they stopped when Bilbo appeared.

“Hi Bilbo,” Kili said, offering a curious smile.

Bilbo returned the smile. “Hello Kili.”

“Hey…” Fili’s greeting was a little more awkward. “We’ll give you two some privacy to talk about… stuff. Come on, Kee, grab your hot chocolate.”

Kili pocketed his screwdrivers and bike lock and picked up his mug. The two teenagers studied Thorin and Bilbo for a moment, before Fili ushered his brother out and up the stairs, which creaked with the thud of their footsteps as they made their way up to the attic.

Now alone in the room – Thorin wasn’t sure where Dis had vanished to, but he didn’t believe for one moment that she was being tactful – the pair dared to make eye contact.

“You’re absolutely soaked,” Thorin whispered, with evident concern. “Has there been any damage to your circuitry or your waterproofing matrix? I can run a full diagnostic if you want… I have my equipment in my van and –”

“I’m fine, Thorin,” Bilbo answered, with a weary fondness that made Thorin’s chest hurt. “It’s my fault: I got off at the wrong bus stop and got myself completely lost.”

“Now that sounds far too much like something I would do,” Thorin murmured, and they both laughed, something which made his stomach squirm. He had missed Bilbo, missed him so much it had driven him to within an inch of insanity, and he couldn’t quite believe that the android was standing in front of him.

“Right…” Dis suddenly materialised with an armful of bath towels.

Bilbo was clearly embarrassed. “Oh, Dis, you don’t need to trouble yourself with –”

“I’m more worried about my sofa,” Dis replied curtly, moving over to the sofa by the front window and proceeding to rather aggressively tuck the towels in around the cushions.

“Of course,” Bilbo said quietly. “Again, I’m so sorry for turning up like this… and for getting mud and water all over the carpet, if you’d like me to pay for a cleaning…”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Bilbo,” Thorin reassured him, shooting a glare at Dis. “Please will you sit down?”

Bilbo gave Dis a wide berth as he settled himself on the towel-covered end of the sofa. Thorin sat down next to him, but gave the android enough space so that he wouldn’t feel smothered.

“I’ll be upstairs in my office if you need anything,” Dis said, putting a hand on her brother’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” Thorin squeezed her fingers, but gave her a look of warning all the same.

They heard Dis’ footsteps, sounding like a marching army, as she went up the stairs.

“I’m sorry about that,” Thorin said softly. “Would you believe me if I told you that was her holding back?”

“Oh yes… And she’s allowed to be protective of her older brother, I think it’s quite lovely actually.”

The silence returned as Bilbo’s green-and-blue eyes scanned the room and Thorin fiddled with his fingernails, wishing his chest didn’t feel so tight, wishing he knew what to say to make everything right.

“Thorin… I can’t tell you how sorry I am for scaring you, for disappearing like that,” Bilbo said, sounding sincere. “I hate that I’ve hurt you. I know you might not believe me when I say that was never my intention… I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking clearly - my selfish instincts took over, and for that I really do apologise.”

Thorin was quiet for a moment, turning the words over in his mind, trying not to think about how truly miserable the past two weeks had been. “Will you tell me why you left?” he asked gently. “Please… I’d like to understand.”

Bilbo shifted on the sofa, fingers flexing over the damp knees of his trousers. A droplet of water ran down his cheek, crossing the fault line of synthetic skin plates, creating an illusion of tears.

“I don’t usually celebrate my birthday,” Bilbo began, voice a little tight. “Every time the end of September comes around, I find things… difficult. I thought that maybe celebrating it with you, associating the date with something positive, might help… But, well, my idea backfired more than I’d ever anticipated.”

Something sickly crackled in Thorin’s stomach. He’d had a wonderful evening… and he thought Bilbo had too.

“After you’d left, I put myself into sleep-mode, and for the first time in years, I had a nightmare…”

“About me?” Thorin breathed, the corners of his eyes beginning to prickle.

“I couldn’t find you,” Bilbo replied, expression pained. “I searched Bag End first, then all down Bagshot Row. The… the synthetic casing on my arm was ripped open, there was oil all over my hands… I tried to make it to the city, to find you, but the longer I walked, the more wires snapped, the more circuits failed… Until my arm stopped functioning all together. I could feel my power running low, so I started running, following the road… and then, just as I could see the A.C.O.R.N. building in the distance, my legs stopped working and I collapsed, blacking out as my systems shut down.”

Thorin wanted to reach for Bilbo’s hand, but wasn’t sure the gesture would be welcome. He knew the nightmare must have been terrifying, but he wanted to reassure Bilbo that such a thing would never come to pass – he would always be there to help him, he’d never abandon him like that.

“I tried to wake myself up, to override the sleep-mode,” Bilbo continued, and something in his voice made the room seem a little colder. “But my battery systems didn’t think I’d had sufficient charge… So I just kept on dreaming.”

The android looked away, his lips a thin line, and all light was gone from his eyes.

“Bilbo…?” Thorin prompted carefully. “Can you tell me what you dreamt about?”

“You died.”

Thorin froze. He hadn’t expected that.

“You died, Thorin… and I couldn’t save you. You were dying in my arms and I kept screaming at everyone to help me, but they just kept on walking as if nothing was happening, as if they couldn’t hear me… Your skin was turning grey and your hair was turning white… I could feel your body getting lighter and smaller in my arms, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it… and then you… you died, and I was alone again.”

Thorin did reach out this time and took Bilbo’s hand in his, stroking his thumb over his knuckles, tracing the metallic bones beneath the pale, still-wet skin.

“The next morning I contacted Gandalf and he drove me up to Drogo’s house on the coast… I just needed some time to think, to clear my head.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Bilbo,” Thorin said, trying to dispel the disturbing visions of his own grey, decaying corpse. “But they were just dreams… You’re not alone, I’m not going to leave you like that.”

Bilbo slowly slipped his hand from Thorin’s grasp. “Thorin… I really have enjoyed our time together. I’ll always remember it fondly and consider you a dear friend… But I think it would be best for both of us if we went our separate ways.”

Thorin felt as if ice had just cracked beneath his feet and he’d been plunged into the icy waters of a dark lake. “You… you don’t mean that…” he said weakly, the cold seeping into his lungs, tightening his throat.

“I’m sorry, Thorin,” Bilbo replied, with little emotion. “I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“It will, it will work,” Thorin said desperately. “Please, Bilbo, we can make it work… I know you’re scared, but I promise I’m not going to leave you.”

“You can’t promise that!” Bilbo was suddenly on his feet, fingers folding into fists. “You think you won’t want to end this, but you will… Henry did.”

Thorin tried to stay calm as he felt his body sinking further into the icy depths. He stayed seated, letting Bilbo have his space as he backed away from the sofa. Gandalf had told him that this had happened once before, and it seemed he was about to find out exactly what that meant.

“Tell me about Henry,” Thorin whispered. “What happened?”

Bilbo seemed surprised by the direct question and he took a moment to answer. “I met him on my first day in Paris, when I went over there to work with our embassy on the Traité. He was a writer for S.M.A.U.G.’s in-house magazine… We were together for six months and I loved him… I was willing to move to France permanently, and that’s when he ended it, told me that he’d made a mistake… Ironic really, that an android rights activist like Henry should discover that he couldn’t cope with an intersentient relationship.”

“But I’m not Henry,” Thorin said, his vision growing blurry. “Please, Bilbo… At least give me a chance to prove that. I want to be with you.”

“You d-don’t mean that.” Bilbo’s voice was shaking again. “You don’t understand…”

“What don’t I understand?” Thorin snapped, his frustration getting the better of him.

“Just look at me, Thorin!” Bilbo shouted, arms thrown wide. “I’m devastated and my heart is breaking, but I can’t even cry!”

“Bilbo…”

“Oh and my heart isn’t actually breaking, because I don’t have one! I don’t have a pulse, Thorin… I… I’m not even a real person!”

Thorin jumped up from the sofa with a growl. “You are a real person!” He reached out and took Bilbo’s shoulders, the wet fabric cold against his palms. “And you’re real to me… I don’t care that you’re an android, I care that you’re Bilbo Baggins.”

“Please… Please, stop…” Bilbo whimpered, not meeting his gaze.

But Thorin wasn’t going to let this go, he wasn’t going to stand there silently and let himself lose Bilbo this way. He needed to make Bilbo understand how he really felt, to convince him that history wasn’t repeating itself.

“Bilbo, listen to me…You are a kind, clever, funny, beautiful person and I was done for the moment I met you.” Thorin reached up and cupped Bilbo’s cheeks, slowly turning his face towards him. “I love you, Bilbo, for all that you are, for all that you’re not.”

Bilbo’s lips parted in shock and Thorin, too, was stunned by his own admission, even though he knew it to be the truest words he’d ever spoken.

“It really doesn’t matter to you…?” Bilbo whispered, peering up at him, trying to find a trace of doubt or dishonesty in Thorin’s expression. “That the love I feel for you doesn’t come from a heart… It comes from a Central Processing Unit?”

“We all experience love differently, it doesn’t mean we love any less,” Thorin answered, brushing his thumbs over the lines beneath Bilbo’s eyes, heart thumping against his ribs as the icy water began a tentative retreat from his lungs. The thoughts that had kept him awake at night for the past month resurfaced and he focused on forming them into something Bilbo might be able to understand. “Bilbo… You and I… Whether it’s 100101 or CTGACT, we’re both made of code, even if some of it is flawed… Synapses or circuits, it’s just different wiring.”

“Thorin…” Bilbo gasped, and suddenly he was beaming, the brilliant smile sending a swell of air rushing into Thorin’s lungs. “I think that might be the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.”

He slid his hands up and around Thorin’s neck and then pulled him into a kiss. Their lips met gently, carefully, and they kissed with a slowness that showed they both wanted to savour the moment and to soothe each other after everything that had happened. Thorin closed his eyes and felt the tears sting behind his lids, but he focused instead on the softness of Bilbo’s mouth and the relief he felt in being able to hold him close again.

After a few long, warm moments, Bilbo slowly pulled away, but then slipped his hands under Thorin’s arms so he could wrap them around his waist. His head came to rest on his chest, an ear to Thorin’s heart.

“Thank you for the book,” Bilbo murmured. “It was a beautiful gift. I’m going to treasure it - give it pride of place in my library.”

“I’m glad Gandalf delivered it safely… Was the, er, wrapping intact?”

“You mean the green and blue paper and ribbon?” Bilbo asked slyly. “Yes, not a fold out of place.”

“Good,” Thorin rumbled, nosing at Bilbo’s drying hair and kissing his forehead. “Oh…”

Bilbo lifted his head. “Oh?”

“You have a leaf in your hair.” Thorin reached up and extracted the small brown leaf from its hiding place beneath one dark gold lock. He tickled Bilbo’s nose with it and they both chuckled. “I think I might keep this one.”

Bilbo turned his chin onto Thorin’s chest. “It seems a poor prize, especially after your wonderful present.”

Thorin tilted his head and pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s jaw. “We’ll figure something out,” he whispered, pecking his way to the android’s lips.

Bilbo hummed his approval against Thorin’s mouth, one hand travelling over the small of his back to his jeans.

“Oh, thank God!”

Dis burst into the room, Fili and Kili hot on her tail. Bilbo’s hand jumped back up to Thorin’s waist.

“Told you, Mum,” Fili said, looking triumphant. “Now pay up! I accept credit transactions.”

“Were you lot outside the door the whole time?” Thorin asked, with a frown as he turned to confront his family, keeping an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders.

“We heard shouting, then it went really quiet,” Kili explained. “Mum wanted to know what was going on… She was at the top of the stairs the whole time.”

“Thanks for that, Kili,” Dis sighed, faint colour appearing in her cheeks. “I was just making sure you two worked this out. I didn’t want to have to come down here and bang your heads together.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Thorin replied, smiling as he gave Bilbo’s shoulder a squeeze.

The android glanced up at him with a soppy grin. “No, your brother has been very persuasive.”

Dis seemed to be resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Right, well now that’s sorted, Thorin do you have any spare clothes in your van? Bilbo, I’m sure Fili has something you can borrow.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. It took him a moment and a glance down to realise that, in holding Bilbo close to him, he had inadvertently soaked his own shirt and jeans.

“I… I didn’t bring any clothes,” Thorin replied, his mind beginning to formulate a plan and all its possibly disastrous outcomes.

“You could wear Mum’s massive fluffy dressing gown,” Fili suggested. “You know the one that looks like she’s skinned the cast of Sesame Street?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to come back to my apartment, Bilbo?” Thorin asked, mouth suddenly very dry. “It, er, it looks like a badger den at the moment, but it’s not very far from here and I have clean clothes and…”

“I’d really like that,” Bilbo replied, a mischievous spark appearing in his eyes.

Kili cupped a hand over his mouth and whispered something into his brother’s ear.

“Ew, Kili, really?” Fili groaned. “And how do you even know about that?”

“And I believe that’s your cue to leave,” Dis said, clapping her hands together, seeming particularly gleeful at Thorin and Bilbo’s matching expressions of mortification. She collected Thorin’s A.C.O.R.N. jacket from the back of the dining room chair. “Well, thanks for the scintillating company, dear brother. Would you like any chicken pie to take home with you?”

“I’m fine, thanks though,” Thorin said, sounding distracted as he took the jacket and placed it around Bilbo’s shoulders, their hands meeting over the zip. Bilbo looked up at him with a fond smile.

“It was lovely to see you again, Bilbo,” Dis said loudly. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Thank you, Dis… Sorry about the carpet… and your towels.”

“I forgive you,” Dis replied, as she began herding them into the hallway.

Fili and Kili chorused their good byes, echoed by Dis as the front door slid open, and then Thorin and Bilbo stepped out into the front garden. The storm appeared to have tired itself out and the rain had slowed to a light drizzle. A faint breeze rustled the sleeves of Thorin’s jacket and stirred the petals of the roses in the flowerbed by the gate. The clouds above them had curled away to reveal patches of dark sky speckled with stars.

Thorin’s arm slipped from Bilbo’s shoulders so that he could take his hand, guiding him through the gate and down the street to the parking quarter. A woman walking her dog nodded to them as she passed. The rest of the world had already forgotten the storm, of how close calamity had seemed, and to them Thorin and Bilbo were just two people in love, walking together in the moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to be dramatic or anything, but this chapter was almost the end of me… I think I need to sleep for a solid ten hours now. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed, and please do let me know your thoughts – hearing from my readers always means the world to me! 
> 
> Thank you all for staying with this story and I sincerely hope you’ll stick around for the super fluffy epilogue! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! So, here we are, the final chapter. I invite you to join me in the not too distant future of the not too distant future where two soppy dorks are off for a long walk along a beach at sunset (yes, I went there!). 
> 
> “I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you” – Kiersten White

Thorin slowly tilted his head to the side and his heartbeat skipped when the baby that had been unceremoniously dumped into his lap did the same. Large blue eyes stared up at him with open curiosity and pudgy little fingers closed around the sleeves of his shirt.

“Oh for goodness’ sake, Thorin! He’s a baby, not a stick of dynamex!”

Frodo started blowing little clear bubbles on his lips, as if to demonstrate this fact. They were all gathered at Drogo and Prim’s cottage on the coast to celebrate their successful and long-overdue adoption. As happy as Thorin was for the couple, young children still weren’t his strong point and he had been studiously avoiding the six-month-old who seemed quite happy to be passed around the guests like a parcel in a party game. That was, until his sister had taken matters into her own hands and caught him the moment he sat down in one of the deck chairs at the edge of the garden.

“So…” Thorin began, fanning his fingers out over Frodo’s chubby sides, holding him steady.

Peering around, Thorin saw that Dis had resumed her conversation with Prim as the two of them sipped from tall champagne flutes – one filled with wine, the other with fragrant oil. Drogo was speaking to Emilio and Koreta, the android couple Thorin and Bilbo had met at the Botanical Gardens. Quite by chance, they’d met at an android adoption support group without realising their existing connection. Fili and Kili were playing with Amelia Artemis, letting the toddler chase them around the circular lawn on a lower level of the garden. And Bilbo was kneeling by one of the flowerbeds set into the dry stone wall, trowel in hand as he tended to the army of orange marigolds. Thorin felt a soft smile appear on his lips as he watched his partner work and his stomach gave a gentle flutter.

Frodo decided this would be the best moment to sneeze and returned Thorin’s attention to him with a whispery snort. His tiny button nose gave a wiggle as he tried to comprehend the strange thing that had just happened.

“Well, that was adorable,” Thorin murmured, pretending he didn’t feel something fuzzy rising inside his chest.

Shaking his head and making his dark curls bounce around his ears, Frodo resumed the important business of making his lips tremble with raspberries.

“How are you enjoying your new home?” Thorin felt a little less silly speaking to Frodo when he thought no one was watching them. He began to bounce him gently on his knees, making a beautifully bright smile appear. “Your mummy and daddy have been waiting so long to meet you… I know they’re going to be the best parents anyone could ask for.”

Frodo’s gurgles seemed to suggest his agreement. Thorin started tickling his belly with his thumbs and he let out a shriek of delight, slapping his hands against Thorin’s wrists.

“Alright, you might have won me over,” Thorin said, his grumble only half-hearted. “This was all part of your master plan, wasn’t it?”

A cough startled him out of his baby-bubble and he found Drogo standing beside the deck chair.

“You’re very good with him,” the android said kindly.  

“I, er, think your son was doing most of the work.”

Thorin didn’t miss the way Drogo’s eyes lit up when he said ‘your son’ and it made him smile: he knew Frodo was truly loved and would never want for anything now that his parents had finally been able to welcome him into their home.

“I’m sorry to steal him back from you,” Drogo said, glancing over his shoulder. “But Bilbo’s been digging around in the flowerbeds for hours now and I was wondering if you could convince him to take a break?”

“Of course,” Thorin replied, following Drogo’s gaze.

The cousins had been quite open about their lack of green fingers and so it had been agreed that Bilbo would bring some of his tools along to help get their garden back into shape. He had been working his way around the flowerbeds since mid-afternoon and now, with the first streaks of marigold orange appearing on the horizon, Thorin agreed that it was time for a rest.

“Come on then, Frodo Baggins,” Drogo said, lifting his son from Thorin’s lap and settling him on his hip. “Let’s go and see what your mummy’s up to.”

Thorin watched them leave with a fond expression, before rising from the deck chair with the expectedly comical gracelessness. He crossed the circular lawn, waving to his nephews, who were being very patient as Amelia tangled flowers into their hair. There was a larger set of stone stairs that led down into the walled grotto that was bursting with colour. Thorin made a show of tapping his feet against the steps as he approached.

“Thorin, what are you doing?” Bilbo asked, without even lifting his head from the roses.

Thorin decided not to ask how the android knew it was him. “Checking for broken paving stones.”

He heard Bilbo chuckle as he came to his side. The marigolds had now fallen into line and it appeared to be the rose bush’s turn to face the wrath of the pruning shears. Thorin reached out a finger and ran it along the underside of a rose’s dark red petals.

“These are beautiful,” he whispered.

“Not as beautiful as the eleven plus one roses you gave me,” Bilbo said, with a mischievous smile, as if he knew his comment would bring colour to Thorin’s cheeks.

Thorin gave a cough, then put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, fingers squeezing his cardigan. “You should take a break, love – the garden isn’t going anywhere.”

Bilbo seemed about to protest, but then he finally lifted his head and was confronted with a pale pink sky splashed with gold and copper light. “Oh… I hadn’t realised it was so late.”

Thorin hummed, stroking a hand down Bilbo’s arm. “Will you come and sit down?”

The android suddenly went very still as he patted his hands against the pockets of his cropped trousers. “Actually…” He slipped off one heavy, soil-speckled gardening glove, then the other. “I was wondering if you’d like to go for a walk?”

“Through the village?” Thorin said, trying not to sound too excited at the prospect of getting a little time where it was just the two of them.

“… Or along the beach?” Bilbo suggested, tensing for a moment.

Thorin wasn’t sure what was making Bilbo nervous, but he offered him a reassuring smile. “That sounds lovely.”

There was a stronger smell of salt carried in the wind where they were in the bottom garden. Thorin could see the tide slowly receding, leaving behind a glittering ribbon of beach that coiled around the cliffs to the opposite side of the bay. There was a creaking green gate set into the grotto’s wall and so, after shouting good byes to their family, Thorin and Bilbo left the garden and began descending the rocky stairs that were built into the cliff-face.

Just before they reached the beach below, Bilbo lowered himself onto a flattened boulder and pulled off his canvas pumps. Thorin made a noise in the back of his throat, but Bilbo only rolled his eyes as he produced a small can of sand-repellent from his cardigan and began spraying his feet. The repellent would prevent any grains of sand from getting stuck between the plates of synthetic skin covering his feet. Android scientists really did think of everything.

“I like feeling the sand between my toes,” Bilbo grinned, picking up his shoes and stepping onto the beach, wiggling his feet with exaggerated movements, just to demonstrate his point.

“Okay, but you’re reapplying that every ten minutes,” Thorin said, kicking off his own shoes with a huff. “And we’re not walking on wet sand.”

“So concerned,” Bilbo said, taking Thorin’s hand and twining their fingers together. “I quite like having my own, personal mechatronic.”

“Hmmm,” was all Thorin said, as Bilbo gently tugged him onto the beach, swinging their joined hands between them.

The sun was sinking towards the sea, leaving the dying embers of its fire in its wake, and the water was rippling with gentle waves of gold, as if touched by Midas himself. The beach was tucked away from the rest of the coastal towns and so Thorin and Bilbo found themselves to be the only wanderers along the shore, accompanied only by the sounds of their own hushed steps across the sand and the cry of gulls that fluttered high above them like strange stars.

It was Bilbo’s birthday next week. Thorin wasn’t quite sure where the year had gone, but maybe that was because it had been one of the happiest of his life. There were still moments of doubt, of course. But he and Bilbo had done the sensible thing and made semi-regular appointments with a therapist specialising in intersentient relationship counselling.

They both knew what had scared them the most. Stories had been written about the tragedy of the undying falling for mortals for thousands of years. However, Thorin and Bilbo had come to the decision – perhaps even on the day they first met – that this fear of loss wasn’t worth sacrificing a lifetime together. With the average human lifespan pushing one-hundred-and-eight years, with many living to one-hundred-and-twenty, they declared that being able to spend another seventy years together was more than enough. Now, a year on, no amount of fear was going to make them give up that time. Equally, it was an unspoken rule that all couples, all families, never really knew how much time they had left with the ones they loved – such a fact had never stopped humanity from choosing not to be alone.

There were also other possibilities, still little more than rumour, that burned like winking beacons on the periphery of reality. Thorin had heard the stirrings at A.C.O.R.N., Bilbo had hinted at hearing something similar from Gandalf: that scientists had turned their minds to the question of human consciousness and the opportunities available for the merging of the organic with the artificial. It seemed only a dream at this point, something that might never come to pass, but the fact that the dream existed at all gave them hope.

“You’re brooding.”

Thorin was suddenly catapulted back from the not too distant future to the beach and to Bilbo, who was watching him with a knowing smile.

“Sorry,” Thorin mumbled, squeezing his hand.

“Not to worry, you’re very cute when you’re brooding,” Bilbo said, feigning nonchalance as Thorin spluttered. “Everything okay?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to be here with you,” came Thorin’s honest reply.

“Ah! Flattery will get you everywhere with me!” He rose onto his toes and pecked a kiss to Thorin’s temple. “Now, I think it’s time to reapply this sand-repellent…”

Bilbo reached into his cardigan pocket, rooting around until he accidentally knocked the spray can onto the sand. Thorin went to retrieve it, but Bilbo waved him away.

“Sorry, that was very clumsy of me,” he said, dropping onto one knee as his fingers closed around the can. His voice sounded different, almost like it was trembling.

“Bilbo…?” Thorin whispered, failing to hide his concern.

Bilbo slowly lifted his head, but stayed kneeling in the sand as his hand slipped into his trouser pocket… and when he produced a silver ring, time itself seemed to grind to a halt. Thorin sucked in a sharp breath, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears, and he felt the best kind of light-headed.

“Twenty-three years ago, we both joined a fight for love, so that this moment, right now, could be possible,” Bilbo said, looking up at Thorin with shining eyes. “This past year has been amazing and you’ve made me so happy… I love you so much and whatever slice of eternity is waiting for us, I want to spend it with you… Thorin Oakenshield, will you marry me?”

Thorin’s eyes were stinging and his heart was a triumphant drumroll as he pushed past the dizziness and found the strength to answer: “Yes… Yes, of course I will!”

He held out a slightly shaky hand and helped Bilbo to his feet. The android promptly threw his arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Thorin could feel the tears beginning to dribble down his cheeks as he drew Bilbo closer to him, his chest swelling fit to burst with tickling feelings of love and elation.

It was with reluctance that they both withdrew and leant their foreheads together. Thorin laughed first, followed by Bilbo’s musical chuckle.

“I was so nervous!”

“You had no reason to be… I was always going to say ‘yes’.”

Bilbo took a step back and lifted Thorin’s left hand so that he could slowly slip the ring onto his finger. Thorin was surprised by how lightweight the metal felt and he narrowed his eyes to inspect it further. The band was slightly flatter in shape than a traditional engagement ring and there were odd markings in the metal, little indents and circles, almost like…

“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed, an edge in his voice.

“Now, before you say anything,” Bilbo began gently. “It was a very simple procedure and the replacement section is working absolutely fine.”

“So… this is really part of your CPU?” Thorin said quietly, holding the ring up to the dying light of the sunset.

“It is,” Bilbo smiled. “Now you can carry a piece of my heart with you everywhere you go.”

Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s waist and nuzzled his golden curls. “It’s beautiful… Thank you.”

Bilbo rested his head against Thorin’s chest for a moment, holding an ear to his heart. “Right, I suppose we should get back before everyone thinks something has gone horribly wrong.”

“Wait… Did everyone know? That you were going to propose?”

Bilbo shifted a little. “Well, I told Drogo… and he might have told your sister.”

“So that’s a ‘yes’, then?” Thorin said, with a fond sigh.

Bilbo only smiled as he took Thorin’s hand, trying to guide him back along the beach.

“Hold on, we’re not going anywhere until you’ve sprayed your feet again.”

“Of course,” Bilbo grinned, retrieving the can that was still sitting in the sand.

Once the repellent was applied and Thorin was satisfied that no harm would come to his new fiancé, the two of them set off, hand in hand as they followed their own footsteps back to the little house on the clifftop and the sun disappeared below the horizon in a blaze of golden light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I swear, the more Bagginshield I write, the soppier I get! Thank you so much everyone for following this story to its happily ever after. Your comments and kudos have made my summer, I honestly couldn’t ask for more awesome readers!
> 
> Now, Shipsicle and I have had discussions about the ultimate fate of Thorin and Bilbo’s relationship in this AU, and really it’s up to you guys to decide. The two of them will get many years together and you might like to think that after Thorin passes away, Bilbo too shuts down his systems, fully content with the life they shared. Alternatively, you could go with what I’m calling the ‘San Junipero’ option where, like in the episode of Black Mirror, both Bilbo and Thorin have their consciousnesses uploaded to a virtual reality where they spend the rest of eternity together while ‘Heaven is a Place on Earth’ plays on loop ;) 
> 
> I would like to thank Shipsicle for inspiring this AU with her wonderful artwork and for being such a kind and caring friend. The best fandom wife anyone could ask for! Please do go and show her some love at shipsicle.tumblr.com!
> 
> If you’re wondering what’s up next for me, I’m happy to announce that I’ve started work on a few one-shot Star Trek AUs, so more sci-fi shenanigans should be heading your way soon!
> 
> In other news, last week I had the absolute privilege of opening a Bagginshield fic and discovering it was inspired by my story, ‘A Remover of Obstacles’. If you’re always game for a Yoga AU, look no further than the amazing ‘Butterfly Effect’ by eyra <3 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/15942023/chapters/37174742
> 
> Finally, another massive thank you to our little fandom. You’re all so lovely and I don’t think I could survive the trials and tribulations of real life without you! <3 <3 <3


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